


Reach out for the Sun

by alex_jones



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, BoyxBoy, Character Death, Depression, Hospitalization, Multi, Past Suicide Attempt, Social Anxiety, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Violinist, Writer, physical illness, terminal illness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-25
Updated: 2018-07-25
Packaged: 2019-06-16 08:41:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 20
Words: 42,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15433218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alex_jones/pseuds/alex_jones
Summary: Devoted to his writing and drowning in loneliness, writer Arthur Kirkland from Brighton loses hope in finding a soulmate. Until one day, in the stupidest way, he meets sunshine boy Alfred Jones, a young violinist with the most beautiful blue eyes. Finally, they are able to see the colours that they had missed out on for so many years of their life.But will the magic of the newfound colour last forever?





	1. In the Stupidest Way

//quick note regarding the whole work: sentences without quotation marks in 1st person are thoughts of the character. I wasn't able to do it in italics because I'm a bit stupid. But the story isn't as stupid as I am!   
Have fun!//  
____________

It was cold.

Autumn just started to wash over the British isles, bringing their nature a whole variety of warm colours, as if it was an invisible brush painting every single leaf in shades of red, orange, gold, and perhaps light brown here and there to add to its magic.  
Wind encircled the country, and left the citizens with only one option, which was to start shopping for clothing that would finally keep them warm. Of course, that wasn't all to this season of the year. Underneath the pale blue English sky, one could always see different colours of umbrellas protecting people from the rain which could fall every five seconds and then, sadly for some, fortunately for others, stop. It was unpredictable, that English weather. Everybody knew that. But its endless skies and majestic seas were always gorgeous to its people - shining at its finest, all shades of blue visible at once, waves dancing around under the tight grip of wind.

But for Arthur Kirkland, it was grey.

Since he was only a small child, he was never able to experience that magic of blue that people around him talked about. Not all of them, of course - some sighed with him and stared at the dull sky, waiting for some kind of force from above to gift them with the colour.

His mother always told him: "One day, when you meet a special person, you will see it, too. It will be beautiful, magical, and it will last forever." But he never believed those words. His mind kept telling him that he would end up alone, and that the sky would always be so sorrowful.

When he was in his teenage years, surviving through high school, he looked everywhere, absolutely everywhere, to find that mysterious person that would make him see the colour. Yet he was, apparently, impossible to find. Arthur didn't want it to a be a girl, he really didn't. Though he had always been good friends with a few girls, he just couldn't see himself spending the rest of his life with them, kissing them and doing all the other things lovers do. But when it came to boys, it was different. He hated himself for being like that, for being a minority, but there was nothing he could do about it.

He just had to wait for the person to come into his life unexpectedly and turn everything upside down. And he was scared, incredibly scared that it would never happen.

Arthur was now twenty three years old, living in his lonely little apartment in the center of Brighton - stuck in the crowd, but always alone.

His best friends were a paper, a pen and a laptop. Writing was his everything. He wrote as if he was running out of time, all day and all night, in a constant whirlwind of thoughts, stories, poems, different worlds and dimensions.

It was clear to say that Arthur lived in a story. And he didn't wait for some random person on the streets to show him the true colour of the skies and seas - he created it himself. Perhaps he didn't see it, but he could imagine it, and imagination was what still kept him going, kept him alive. There were times when he wanted to give up on everything, but it never even occurred to him he could stop writing. At this point, he only left the house when it was obligatory, like going to the store, and didn't enjoy other people's company whatsoever. And when writing wasn't an option, he could easily spend hours and hours stuck in another universe of an already finished book by another author.

He didn't want to give that up for anything or anyone.

But what Arthur Kirkland didn't know was that one simple September morning was going to change his entire life in the strangest, stupidest, but the best way possible.

Still, was it really for the better?

\- - -

"See, the right one is certainly much more efficient!"

"But the left one is prettier."

"Alfred, we are not looking for aesthetic appeal, but how well it is going to work, alright?"

"Matt, you know nothing. It's all about appeal, ain't it?"

So the banter went on. Two American brothers by the names of Alfred and Matthew stood in the center of the supermarket for the past fifteen minutes, and it was all because they couldn't agree on whether it was more important for a bread knife to be pretty or useful. And the argument kept going, each of them giving reasonable - or if it was Alfred speaking, unreasonable - arguments for which one to spend their money on.  
People couldn't help but give them strange looks.

"Ugh, how do I ever smack some sense into you?" Matthew, the older brother, was already fuming, rolling his eyes at his stubborn sibling.

The two usually got along really well, and rarely fought, but sometimes Alfred was just too ridiculous to deal with. His intriguing, but such impossible ideas always brought some light into the family. He had a positive outlook on life twenty four hours a day, and Matthew couldn't understand how a person could stay that happy despite everything happening in life. It just seemed so unrealistic.

"You can't do that, I'm senseless", Alfred smirked and, once Matthew wasn't looking for just one second, swapped the boring looking bread knife for the one he liked better. Truth be told, he didn't really care about which one they were going to get - it was just a simple kitchen object, anyway - but it was important for him to have fun at all times. Even at the worst moments, his job was to keep everyone positive and to cheer everyone up.

"Oh for fuck's sake, Alfred, the green one is better!" Matthew gave him a sharp glance and switched the items in the shopping cart in two quick movements.

"The green one is always better, isn't it...?" The younger American sighed thoughtfully, frowning momentary before realizing he should really smile again. The last thing he wanted to do was make his brother worried.

But it was just really exhausting at this point, to miss out on such a wonder as the colour green. Alfred was never able to see it, since the earliest stages of his life. And that sometimes created this impatient sadness inside of him - he wanted to experience nature in its brightest form. The forests were always grey, the hills, grassy plains and everything that spring brought back to life. He believed that the one meant for him would never appear. Even though the boy was only nineteen, he already gave up on looking for love. Instead, he focused on creating the colours himself - through music.

Alfred had, indeed, practiced the violin since he was five years old. When he played - outside with fresh air, eyes closed - he could see the missing colour in his mind. And as he would open his eyes, it would really be there. On a moment, nature around him would shine.

"Oh, right... I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bring that up." Matthew placed a gentle hand on the other's shoulder in an attempt to comfort him.

"It's fine, it's fine! Who gives a damn about that anyway?" Alfred just chuckled, waving his hand in dismiss.

Who gives a damn? You, you absolute idiot. You keep saying that you have stopped searching for the one meant to be with you, but that's not true.  
Then why are you so obsessed with writing love songs? Why are you desperate to create the colour as a fragment of your imagination?

"Yeah, yeah." The older shrugged, not wishing to pursue the topic any longer. "There's time for everything."

Easy for you to say, Alfred thought to himself, but didn't want to say a word about it. You've been able to see purple for years now, ever since you met that French girl in cooking class. But me? No. I'm already nineteen, possibly the only person in this damn country to march into his twenties practically colour blind and single.  
And worst of all, I don't give a shit. As long as I can play my damn violin, I'll be happy.

"Whatever you say, Matt. I'll go get some candy now, wait here for a moment." He rolled his eyes once he turned around, making swift steps towards his favourite aisle of the supermarket - chocolate, candy, sugary goodness, everything he craved for in life.

Alfred was really clumsy. Since he was a little child, he always had troubles with picking things up, and holding a lot of things in his hands at once. It was just him, a trait of his, and he never tried to take it seriously. Neither did his family. But it started to get on his nerves after years. He sometimes even somehow managed to drop his violin. Only a few times, though.

So as he filled his hands with three packages of jelly beans, a box of pralines and a nicely wrapped piece of Belgian chocolate, he turned around to place it in the shopping cart all at once, it all went wrong in the blink of an eye.

"Shit!" He exclaimed, dropping the articles all over the floor in front of him, only then realizing there was a person standing right there, already rushing to help him pick up all the fallen items. "Oh god, I'm so sorry..." Alfred apologized, still not looking up to whoever was trying to help.

"It's alright, it's alright." The man's soft voice reached his ears - Alfred had never before heard such a gentle tone. Still embarrassed to make eye contact, he took the risk and met the other's eyes. They were... Grey. Which meant the exact opposite - they had to be deep, green, gorgeous and intelligent. He just couldn't see it.

"Thanks for the help." He smiled solemnly.

"Well, I-I can't just walk past a man who needs help, can I?" The unfamiliar person smiled just slightly, and Alfred tapped his shoulder once or twice, just as a friendly way of saying thank you.

Suddenly, he felt as if the world stopped spinning.

Both men stepped away from each other as the felt a tingle of electricity rush through their bodies, and they couldn't help but gasp, frightened at the feeling. It was a shock wave, for sure.

"I-it's..." Alfred looked left and right, all around him, and then back to the shorter blonde in front of him. "It's green. Your eyes. They're green. A-and it's..." He began stuttering, impossible to come down from the high.

It couldn't be! 

"O-oh, my god." The stranger stared for a second. "C-can you get a step closer?"

So Alfred nodded, still awestruck, and took a step forward.

"You have gorgeous eyes. A-and best of all, they're blue. I-I swear, I can see the sky in them."

"My name is Alfred." The boy grinned, blinking a couple of times to see if it was really true. If this man in front of him was truly the one.

"I'm Arthur Kirkland. And I must be the luckiest man on this planet if you're the one for me." Arthur smiled back, and the next thing they knew was that they were hugging, tightly at that note, and they didn't want it to end.

So the world gained colour for both Alfred Jones and Arthur Kirkland in a very unpredictable, unexpected turn of events. Matthew joined them from the side, almost tearing up - his brother finally found the one he denied he was looking for.

Alfred was never before so thankful for his clumsiness.


	2. Paint My Skies Blue

In the afternoon of that same day, Alfred and Arthur agreed to go on a date. Or rather, a meet-up to get to know each other better. After all, they were, apparently, meant to spend their lives together, so why not discuss things that both of them enjoyed, were fond of and considered important to them.  
The two of them were now comfortably sitting in a coffee shop just a block away from the supermarket in which they met in the early hours of the day, each slowly sipping a warm beverage - Arthur with a cup of coffee, and Alfred with some hot chocolate.

"So tell me, Arthur, what do you like to do in life?" The American began the conversation, gently resting his arm on the table at which they were sitting. His deep, blue eyes were glistening with a different kind of happiness, and his heartbeat sped up every time he would glance at Arthur.

He wasn't hopeless anymore. As much as he denied needing someone to spend his life with, it was such a relief to know there really was someone for him. And he was sitting right in front of him, sandy blonde hair partially covering his eyes, cheeks slightly blushing from how the other was looking at him.

"I, uh, I'm a really uninteresting person, seriously. I just sit at home and write, that's it." The Englishman chuckled weakly, taking another sip of his drink.

"And you're saying writing is boring? I actually write songs, and play the violin. If nothing, we're both total nerds", Alfred laughed, his usual smile brightly gracing his facial features.

Arthur was left wide eyed. Alfred played the violin? He would have never considered him a musician. Perhaps journalist, entertainer, but nothing like this. It was quite a pleasant surprise, and also taught the Brit a short lesson to never judge a person by their cover. "I've always wanted to play an instrument." He smiled, absentmindedly taking Alfred's hand into his without even noticing.

But the American noticed, and he couldn't help but turn a bit red, enjoying the warm touch that the other offered so simply. "I can teach you if you'd like. Only if you let me read some of your writing, though." He grinned almost mischievously, but maybe Arthur just perceived it in the wrong way.

"W-what? I'm not letting you read any of my work, it's horrendous!"

"I bet it's brilliant."

"I refuse to let you anywhere near my desk."

"You can't stop me." The American pursued with a smirk, receiving a playful eye roll from the slightly irritated Brit.

Once Arthur realized that Alfred was that kind of person - cheerful, mysterious, charismatic, unstoppable, and absolutely gorgeous - he simply sighed, a small smile forming in the corner of his lips. He was skeptical of letting someone into his life, especially so suddenly, but he was more than ready to make an exception for Alfred Jones.

"O-oh, there's also a very important thing that I have to tell you... So you don't, well, try anything. Better say it now than wait a year, I guess." The shorter man began, slightly stuttering as he stumbled over his words.

"I'm listening." Alfred replied peacefully.

"Okay, how do I put this nicely... I-I don't want an intimate relationship. I mean I do, I do, but... Nothing extreme, uh... If you know what I'm talking about." Arthur tried his best to put his thoughts into a proper sentence, but was fairly close to failing that simple task. "I'm asexual. There. I'm really sorry that you have to bear with that, but kissing will do. Nothing more."

The younger stared at him for a second, raising an eyebrow questionably before releasing a long string of honest laughter. "No need to be so nervous about that, damn! It's not like I was going to jump you as soon as we exit the coffee shop or something. Actually, I'm not so far away from identifying with that myself, to be honest. Physical intimacy just... Doesn't seem that appealing. I want to connect with you on a spiritual way."

Arthur released a long exhale, placing a hand on his chest out of relief. "Thank goodness. I was worried I'd disappoint you or something." He let out an airy laugh, happy that it didn't turn out the way he thought he would.

"Don't worry." Alfred waved his hand in dismissal. "I like you a lot, Arthur." He then stated, making direct eye contact, getting lost in the other's gorgeous looking jade green eyes. Noticing a sudden spark of happiness in them, he smiled gently, wanting to kiss him right there. But he wanted to save that moment for later, when they needed to part until the next day.

"L-like me? Why would you like me? You're just saying that because we're basically doomed to be with each other. I don't mind it, but... You can't just say you like me, you haven't truly met me! I'm boring, ordinary, and no longer a teenager. If there wasn't for this bloody fate thing that just had to connect us, I bet you'd find someone so much better than me, someone you deserve."

It was oh, so obvious he was flustered. And Alfred found that incredibly cute. "I might have just met you, but I'm very good at reading people. There's something more to you than what you say. I can't quite put my finger on it, but I feel it. You're special, Arthur, and I'm so happy I get to be with you."

And then Arthur was left speechless. It was something that no person could do to him, leave him without a word. But this boy was different, as if he had just walked out of a movie or a book and decided to not only sprinkle colour onto the world, but also erase all loneliness from the Brit's life. He definitely reciprocated those feelings that the American expressed with a simple 'I like you'. "I... I don't know what to say."

"You don't need to say anything. It's enough that you're here." Alfred replied in a soft tone, quickly glancing through the window, noticing how the weather was bright, perfect for an afternoon walk. "Would you like to take a walk with me?"

The Englishman wordlessly nodded, standing up from the table in a slow movement and waiting for the other to do the same. As Alfred got up as well, with a bit of trouble, it seemed like, they headed towards the exit of the coffee shop, both greeting the lady cleaning the table by the window before they left the place. 

Alfred's eyes were lost among the green - they just happened to walk through a long boulevard, but this time it wasn't grey, it wasn't a sad sight to see. It was absolutely stunning. There were still trees which hadn't been touched by September's And for Arthur, that was the light blue sky above, only a couple of clouds passing by here and there, none of them bringing along the usual moody weather. "It's beautiful." The younger man spoke up first, excitedly taking in his surroundings, and remembering every detail of it.

"There was a boy", Arthur began speaking almost in a whisper, "who came into my life so unexpectedly, when I was already far too close to letting the loneliness break me, and painted my skies in the brightest blue with only his smile, his charismatic look..."

"What are you saying? Y'know, I want to hear whatever the writer has to say."

"I-it was nothing, I assure you."

And the boy's name is Alfred Jones.

\- - -

So they walked. Hand in hand, alongside one another, lost in the sight of nature which now graced the dusty old buildings of Brighton that used to be so uninteresting, but now seemed so insightful, and chatted away their entire afternoon with whatever came to their mind.

"Tell me Alfred, what brings you and Matthew to England?"

"Well, it's a pretty long story and I wouldn't want to bore you with the details, and I'm sure you wouldn't want to hear anyway... But to make it short, we needed a new start. A lot of shit happened back in Philadelphia. We kind of wanted to forget all of it and basically rolled the dice to see where to go. So here I am, in Brighton." The young American spoke so casually, as if he didn't have a single worry in the world, radiating relaxation wherever he'd go.

"I'm sorry to hear that." Arthur replied sincerely. "I've been through stuff myself, I know how you feel."

"Nothing to be sorry about. In fact, I am thankful for each and every bad thing, because if it hadn't happened, I would still be in Pennsylvania and not here in England, walking with the man with whom I was meant to be. It all happens with a reason, you know? At the time, I thought the universe wanted to make me suffer, but through experience I realized that definitely wasn't the case. The world just had a different plan to bring me where I belonged."

"That was... That was deep." The Brit was genuinely surprised by this sudden change of atmosphere - from constantly cheerful to a question of life, fate and what the universe had in store for its people. And it all came from Alfred, who seemed more mysterious with each second.

Arthur wanted to know the boy's story from the first page to last, no matter how long the book is. It seemed like an interesting one, a fiction just like his own.

"Hah, well, I guess I can be like that sometimes." The other simply chuckled, looking down at the ground, smile faltering for a moment. After all, no man is able to smile the entire time.

Suddenly, the moment was broken by Alfred, who was brought to the ground by some kind of invisible force, and let out a short gasp at the feeling. "Damn it! I think I tripped over air."

Arthur immediately jumped to help, holding out his hand for the other to get up, but couldn't restrain himself from laughing at the boy's clumsiness. He seemed to be bad with not only holding things, but walking as well. It was a sight for a good laugh.

"Agh, I'm sorry about that." Alfred said as he brushed off the dust from his clothes. "It happens sometimes, I'm not so sure why. I should really be more careful." He said in with a slightly uneasy tone.

"Yeah, you should", the Brit said through the remaining bit of laughter. "And it's alright, I'm no better than that."

But there was a hint of fear hidden in Alfred's eyes that Arthur wasn't sure how to decode.

He would just have to find out with time.


	3. Pen, Paper and Candlelight

Evening appeared too quickly for their taste, since they would both give anything to stay with each other longer, stargazing, talking, holding hands... But Alfred and Arthur knew there would be enough days in life to do all of that, many times.  
The air was cool and crisp, and those who didn't bring their jacket out sure regretted it by now. Alfred being one of them. Matthew would never let him live it down if he caught a cold.

"I guess this is that sad, but borderline cute moment of the story where we have to part, and we stare at each other's eyes for a moment before one of us leans in for a kiss. And then each of us goes their own way, left with thoughts about how wonderful it was to spend time with the other person." Arthur spoke in a peaceful tone as Alfred and him stood on the sidewalk next to the American's apartment, the first station on the Brit's longer way home. "I've read and written my fair share of romance novels, I know where this is going."

Alfred lightly chuckled at the statement, sighing at how true that actually sounded. He was planning to kiss the Brit goodbye, and nothing he said was going to change it. "You're right, it is exactly that part." And without further hesitation, he pressed his lips against Arthur's softer ones, placing his hands on the shorter man's shoulders. It was magical - a feeling neither of them had experienced ever before. An instant connection.

It was the best moment of their life.

Arthur couldn't help but let out an almost inaudible, muffled sound of pleasure as he melted into the kiss, wrapping both of his arms around Alfred's waist. The musician was gentle, his movements tender and loving rather than rough and quick.

It wasn't cold anymore.

All previous loneliness that both of them experienced seemed to have dissipated, disappearing as it was suddenly replaced by a new kind of warmth, a feeling of love.

"I... Ah... It feels better than novels could describe it." Arthur whispered, parting from the kiss to take a breath, gazing into Alfred's eyes. "I-I think I love you, Alfred. I know we just met, and this goes against everything I stand for, but I think I love you."

"I'll be damned, I never thought I'd hear those words." The younger smiled, tightly embracing the Englishman, not wanting to let go. "I guess the writer just experienced a love story in person."

"And it couldn't be better."

\- - -

That night, Arthur was writing again. But this time, he didn't want his story to be sad. Instead, it was about a boy.

A nineteen year old Philadelphian boy with the brightest smile, the most beautiful eyes, the softest lips and the most gentle hands that Arthur had ever seen, felt or touched. He was kindhearted, he played the violin, and he changed the lonely man's life in the blink of an eye.

It was something new, something different, but something oh, so wonderful, and Arthur had a feeling it would truly last forever.

The boy was so cheerful, despite anything that happened he always wore that same smile that radiated positivity, energy and everything one could desire. Truth be told, he was quite clumsy. As if he didn't know what he was doing, he was just there to do whatever he wished to do. Even if that meant dropping everything on the floor and making a joke of it without doubting his actions. Even if that meant tripping over air, and spending ten minutes laughing about it.

He was magical.

And he changed Arthur's life.

Arthur couldn't stop writing. He didn't care that he accidentally switched to third person, he didn't care that it lacked so much description and his usual style that he kept so narrow.  
He wrote straight from the soul. No sorrow, no sadness, no tears or sad endings, only happiness right ahead with the new found love which filled his heart in less than a full day, as if it was blooming in a much faster pace than expected.

Who knew what future held in store for Arthur Kirkland and Alfred Jones. All they knew was that right now, history had its eyes on them, only them, while they stood on top of the world. Together. That was everything that mattered.

Arthur was an old fashioned writer. He wrote with nothing but a quill on paper, only dim candlelight illuminating parts of his wooden desk in the corner of his small bedroom. Laptops were for mornings spent in cafe bars, he would always say. And real writers would spill their heart and soul right onto the paper, accompanied with warm tears which would nicely grace the ink creating a realistic perception of how the writer actually felt at the specific moment.

He wrote long into the ungodly hours of the night, but his exhausted body couldn't take that much. At one point, he collapsed on the desk, instantly falling asleep.

He did not regret a single thing.

\- - -

Meanwhile

Just a few streets away, in an apartment bigger than the one of the Englishman, in a bedroom with light blue coloured walls, stood Alfred Jones - eyes closed, surrounded only by the blissful, calming sound of music.

He had a gentle grip on his violin as he played, taken away by the notes to a different world. A peaceful world, which consisted solely of love. Love was what kept him going, though he denied it all these years.

 

I might have said it many times, but it was never true. I never stopped searching for the one. I'm glad that Arthur showed up to this mess that I call my life. When I was with him, I forgot about everything besides the night sky, the stars... And us.

He is irresistible.

And as he imagined the night in his head, recalling every detail of it, the music followed the thoughts, creating absolute perfection. Nothing could take that away from him.

I want to spend my whole life with him. I want it to last a hundred years, and I want to remember every single moment of it.

It took him just a split second to get a little bit too carried away in the music, and he didn't even realize what happened until the music suddenly... Stopped.

His violin was on the floor, but he still firmly held the bow in his right hand, staring at the parquet, letting out a long sigh of exasperation at his own action. Without even rethinking it, he sat on the cold ground himself and picked up the instrument, resting it in his lap.

"...That's four." The boy muttered under his breath, exhaling once again.

Four times in the same week that it had happened. His graceless hands managed to drop the violin again, and suddenly he was filled to the brim with a different feeling, one that he didn't experience that often - concern.

"Are you alright, Alfred? I thought I heard something fall." From the door of the room he could hear Matthew, already worried about what might had happened. He immediately ran up to his brother who was seated on the floor, making himself accommodated next to him.

"Yeah. I dropped the damn thing again, nothing else", the younger American shook his head, glancing towards Matthew.

"Oh, okay. As long as you're fine."

There was a longer pause, an awkward silence that had fallen upon them and made the situation even more uncomfortable for Alfred than it already was. All he wanted was to get lost in the music again, he didn't want to be on the floor again. And truth be told, he didn't want to bother getting up from it.

"It just frustrates me, you know?" He began speaking in a saddened tone, leaning his head against his brother's shoulder for comfort. "It's kind of taking over my life. The constant clumsiness, I mean. Gets on my nerves. I know I shouldn't be worried... But I am."

And that was the first time in years that Matthew saw Alfred cry, not smile.

The younger felt himself being tightly embraced, and he just let go of everything, allowing the tears to finally stream down his cheeks without trying to stop them. "I don't want it to take over my life." He quietly insinuated through a choked back sob.

"It won't, hear me out. You're Alfred Jones, you can do it." Matthew tried his best to find words of comfort, but it was quite difficult in the position he was put in. He hated seeing his brother sad, but he didn't know what to say. To him, and to everybody else, it was just a couple of slip-ups, nothing to be concerned about.

"What about my music? What kind of violinist drops their instrument in the middle of the song?"

"A violinist who gets so carried away with the music that he forgets his surroundings." The older answered in a soft tone, wiping off his brother's tears. "And that's you. To you, music isn't just a couple of scribbles on a piece of paper, or a background melody to keep you company when nothing else is there to. No. To you, music is everything. I know it, I know it from your eyes. And perhaps, during the songs, sometimes you just get a bit too far away from the world to realize that you're still standing here."

It was true. To Alfred, music was love, happiness, imagination, hope... Music was exactly what he needed so he could properly express his true feelings.

He wanted to show Arthur how much he actually meant to him, but that was possible in only one way.

Through a song.


	4. Teach Me How to Live

It was morning.

Sunlight crept through the window, reaching a sleeping figure of the Englishman and disturbing his sleep, making the man shift around just a bit before he opened his eyes, realizing that he was still sitting at his desk, surrounding by smudged writing and ink he had accidentally spilled while he wasn't aware of it.

Arthur blinked a couple of times, sighing at the new found realization. The story from last night was just a bit ruined, but he could still read it. Though the wooden desk - that was a different situation. The black ink from the small, dark blue glass bottle was absolutely everywhere, even in the reach of his sleeves and one unlucky notebook in the bottom left corner of the desk.

He left that as a concern for later.

Now, he needed to do a very important thing. Once he met Alfred, he mentally swore to himself to glance at the sky each morning, simply to admire its colour and brightness which he was not able to see earlier in life. So that was exactly what he did. Approaching the window, leaned against the windowsill and looked up to the light blue, infinite expanse which instantly left him with a mesmerized expression on his face, and the best of all, it reminded him of Alfred. More specifically, of his eyes. By the gods, his heart could melt just by looking at them!

"The world never ceases to amaze me." He muttered under his breath, getting lost in the moment.

I have to call Alfred. It's almost noon, and he told me that he wakes up early so... Why not meet up?

I hope he won't mind that.

So with that thought, he reached for his cell phone which proudly lay on the floor, probably there since last night. Dialing up Alfred's number that he received only minutes after the two met, Arthur felt a bit anxious - he certainly wasn't good with phone calls or, well, anything that included conversational skills. He severely lacked those since his teenage years, but slowly got adjusted to that over time.

"Hello?" From the other side, there was a tired voice, and the Brit immediately thought he had woken the boy up.

"U-uh, hi, Alfred. Did I disturb your sleep? Please forgive me if I did so."

"No, it's okay. I pretty much didn't even sleep." The American chuckled tiredly, and Arthur could swear he heard him yawn.

"Sorry to hear that. Do you... Do you want to meet up? Or are you too exhausted for it?"

"Gladly! Let me just put on some pants and I'm at your place in fifteen minutes." Alfred laughed halfheartedly and soon ended the call before Arthur could even muster out another word.

The Englishman sighed loudly, staring at his phone for a moment and then swiftly putting it in the front pocket in his trousers. Alfred didn't sound too excited to hang out, and that was actually quite worrying.

Perhaps he decided he didn't like Arthur? Or was it just the apparent lack of sleep?

He didn't want it to be the former. With slight uncertainty and hesitation about the phone call, he went straight to his bedroom to throw on some comfortable looking clothes which weren't scruffy like those that he slept in - a red flannel shirt and his typical, ripped dark blue jeans that he loved wearing not only for their coziness, but also the style. His hair was a total mess, but he didn't even bother running a brush through it. If nothing, it added to the modern style he was going for.He wasn't a person of fashion, but sometimes he appreciated a good look.

Especially when it was Alfred coming over to his place for the first time.

Fifteen minutes passed by too slowly for Arthur's taste, and so did five more after that. Of course, he didn't even expect Alfred arriving on time. But twenty minutes in, he heard three knocks on his front door, immediately running up to it and opening it in only a few swift motions.

In front of the Brit stood the tall American boy with a proud smile on and a glistening exhaustion in his such obviously tired blue eyes. "Before you ask, I found your address on Google. Also, hi!" He chuckled, stepping inside without even waiting for the shorter to properly let him in. It was like he was already accommodated to this apartment, and not coming here for the first time.  
Arthur couldn't help but feel slightly irritated by that, though instead of showing it, he just smiled back and closed the door behind Alfred's graceful entrance.

"You stalked me on Google? Blimey, I was sure there is more than one Arthur Kirkland in this part of Brighton."

"You're special", Alfred smirked, instantly running over to the living room to find a place to sit. As he approached the couch, he realized that he already felt awfully tired from only twenty minutes of walking three streets over to Arthur's place, so his body just flopped down onto the soft surface, a sigh of relaxation escaping him as soon as he sat. "You live alone, right?"

Arthur nodded, making himself comfortable next to the American. "I used to live here with my brother Allistor, but he found a lover and moved away. So yes, I've been living by myself for quite the time now."

"That's sad. It looks like a lonely place, to be honest." Alfred commented with sincere sympathy in his voice. "You know, if you ever feel like you need someone around here, I can join 'ya. Matthew wouldn't mind, I'm sure in that."

"I-I'm not lonely, alright? I told you yesterday, I spend my days writing. Not complaining about living by myself."  
Now that was a total lie. Arthur was awfully lonely all the time - he missed his brother, and writing was good only when the need to be taken care of wasn't strong enough. And truth be told, he became quite sad from the constant lonesomeness. He just didn't want to be a burden on Alfred, and the crippling fear of losing everyone who loved him was too big to let someone else step so deeply into his life as Alfred would if they actually started living together.  
It was a big enough thing losing both his parents when he was only a teenager, and being left behind by his brother as soon as the other found a chance to go.

Alfred didn't believe him when he said it, but he didn't say a word. He could read people awfully well, and Arthur's eyes just showed all that bottled up pain that settled inside throughout the years. Especially because he himself knew how it felt, and experienced it first person. At least some of it.

They were just two broken souls in the world trying to piece themselves back together. But that couldn't have been done alone.

"What about you, Alfred? Do you ever get... Lonely, or sad? You seem like such a cheerful person, I don't know how you do it."

"Of course I do. Everyone does. I just don't let it define me." The younger responded with confidence. "Though I did get carried away with the sadness once, I guess it was a couple of years ago. But never mind that now, I didn't come to your place to talk about my existential issues, I came to keep you company."

"Don't worry, I'm quite the listener." Arthur waved his hand in dismissal. If nothing, he would rather have Alfred talk about his problems than tell the boy about his own. He was the kind of person to express it only on paper, and not in person.

"A-are you sure you'd like to hear, though?"

"If it helps you breathe, go on and say it. It's not good to keep things inside, I know that from my own experience. And if we're already meant to spend our lives together, I'll hear it one day. Why not now, then?" The Englishman was quick and casual with his words, immediately creating this feeling of trust which Alfred caught in less than a second.

"Very well... I-I mean, you do deserve to know. And we are here to get to know each other better." Alfred nodded, shrugging his shoulders. "So... I told you that back in Philadelphia it was total hell. Our parents got divorced, my mum got immensely depressed so she... Well, she's not here anymore. You can imagine what happened for yourself. Then dad was really miserable, and he blamed himself for everything, all three of us felt really sad, school was a total pain. And I tried to do the same as my mother. Luckily, I failed, so that's good. I'm still alive, though dead on the inside." He lightly chuckled at the last sentence, but it didn't have the same effect as any other smile he had given Arthur in the past day when they had met.

Arthur didn't expect the happy boy he saw at the supermarket to have this kind of story haunting him in the back of his mind.

Perhaps he was too quick to concluding what Alfred was really like - he should have read more into his eyes, maybe then he would have already understood that it wasn't all cheerful inside.  
"I'm so sorry to hear that, Alfred. I-I really couldn't have even guessed that you had gone through these kinds of things... You just seem so relaxed, I don't know..."

Arthur wished he had the skill of being always happy despite his own bad history.

"Don't be sorry. I told you yesterday, I'm grateful to have had experienced the bad things back in Philly, because if they hadn't happened, I wouldn't be in Brighton right now. You know that one... Always look on the bright side of life!" The American sang in a gentle tune, whistling the next part just as the song goes.

"You're going to have to teach me how to live, Alfred Jones."

And so the Englishman's conclusion was finally clear - he couldn't just stay at his home writing at all hours of the day, even the ungodly ones, he needed to start living a healthy life with a positive attitude because maybe one day, he could own a mindset just like Alfred's. Clear, enthusiastic, optimistic, no matter what had happened before.

"Arthur, you just need to learn to turn that new page in the book of life. I don't know how else to explain it."

There were so many things that Alfred was hiding, but those were the things he didn't care about as much. He wanted to share everything with Arthur, every single bit of his life story so they could connect in the best way possible. That was just how he worked.

"A-a book? Give the writer a chance to write one, and he's satisfied. If I can write that new page, I'd be incredibly happy." Arthur gave a wholehearted laughter.

"Oh, wow, I'm glad I can actually give good advice.

"I'm naming the next chapter after you."

No, he wasn't going to name it Alfred. Not even Alfred Jones, or The boy who changed Arthur's life - the title would be simply...

Blue.


	5. Too Painful to Breathe

Later in the day

Perhaps soulmates don't always work out. Sometimes the colour becomes dull, and the flame burns out, maybe from exhaustion, or something else entirely.

Alfred didn't understand that. And he never would.

He still remembered the day when his parents decided to split up. It felt like the whole world lost its colour, as if it was all grey now, all sorrowful... That was how both parents felt, he guessed. They certainly weren't happy, especially the mother.  
But his mind couldn't comprehend why it happened in the first place. Two people who were, apparently, meant for each other - that's how the universe said it in its own language - split up?

Looking through the window from his bed, and getting lost in the green that the world offered him, all the trees, newly cut grass in the garden, Alfred thought that it wasn't on him to think about soulmates splitting up. His freshly found colour was too bright, almost blinding him, and his heart knew that it would never fade away.  
In less than two days, Arthur and he managed to make a strong connection between each other.

But a part of him - the irrational part - had unreasonable doubts for the thought that things would be okay.

No matter what, though, for the first time in a long while, they were both glad to be alive. At least to a certain degree.

It was unbelievable, even magical, how the power of love was able to patch up shattered pieces of a heart once broken, how it could repair something that seemed impossible to heal, how it could bring such a strong will to live to those who felt it.  
It didn't erase a history stained with darkness, no, but it created a path of new opportunities, a new page to write in an already existing book...

"It's strange, this thing called life." The young American spoke to himself, gazing at the outside world with a mesmerized expression. "We sometimes feel like we're worthless, hopeless, or think that our lives have no meaning... But with time we realize that we have all been brought here for a reason. Some are just meant to fight through the dark." He muttered the last words as a tear slid down his pale cheeks, and he wiped it away as soon as he noticed it. "And here I am, talking to myself, clinging to a past I'd rather forget than feel again, and at the same time trying to create a better future."

"Alfred? Are you okay?" Matthew peaked from behind the open door of his brother's room, noticing that the other got a bit carried away with his thoughts again.

Alfred turned around, glancing at the blurry figure. By now, he was crying freely, covering his face with his hands. "I'm fine", he said shakily, "just a bit confused." He gave his brother a weak smile. "But I'll be alright, I promise."

"Need help?"

"I mean, uh, well, kind of." He chuckled bitterly. "I can't get up."

"What do you mean?" Matthew raised an eyebrow at the statement, stepping into Alfred's room and approaching the bed on which the boy was sitting on.

I don't even know what I mean anymore. I don't know what this world means, I don't care, but I also want to find out.

Everything hurts me. I can't resemble whether it's physical or mental. Or both.

I'm afraid. Only now I understand how afraid I am of loving, of being with Arthur.

...Of losing him. Just like my parents split up. Were their colours so bright in the beginning, too? Or were they just pale traces of something that should have been beautiful?

"I... Ah, never mind. I just feel a bit pained, but it's probably because I slept in the wrong position. There's no other explanation for it. So I can't get up, and I want to play my violin now." Alfred replied in a voice full of badly balanced emotions, a tornado of feelings which he couldn't understand. So many thoughts all at once flooded him, paralyzed him at last.

"Oh, then I'll help you up." Matthew shrugged, not showing how concerned he actually was for the younger. He spread out his hand, and Alfred quickly grabbed onto it, letting out a frustrated sigh as he barely stood up straight on both feet, and he would have fallen back down if the other didn't catch him.

"Thank you." The teenager whispered gently, inhaling deeply and taking in the scent of his surroundings to calm himself down so he could remain standing firmly.

"Are you sure you're alright, though? You seem... Shaken up, out of the ordinary."

"Yeah, I'm sure." He walked over to the desk in the corner of the room where his violin case proudly stood, already open, and lightly took the instrument from it, blowing away the dust that the four strings were partially covered with. "I-if you want, you can listen to me play. I'd like that."

Matthew blinked in perplexion. Alfred would never ask him to listen to his music. It was quite contrary - he almost never let him hear it at all. It was rare when he could have a mere insight into the countless compositions. "Of course." He replied with a bit of hesitation.

So he sat on Alfred's bed, waiting for the other to start playing the piece.

And he did. Alfred felt himself connect with the sound, all emotions finally coming out of him in the only shape he could understand them. He wasn't standing in the room anymore - he was in a whole another world, where only music and colour existed. The green was a strong one there, a shade he used to be able to see only with the power of imagination. But now he knew exactly how it looked like, and it danced through the air along with the minor key he played in - F minor, to be exact.

In a flash of light, everything was okay. There was no such a thing as a bad past, sadness, trouble... Just the overwhelming sound.

Matthew witnessed it all happen right in front of him. Perhaps he couldn't see exactly what Alfred saw in the moment, but music transferred feelings. He was able to feel it deep inside, and it made him so surprised - how could something so simple looking, a violin, create such an emotion?

But it didn't last forever. After all, nothing is infinite.

Suddenly, Alfred wasn't playing anymore. It happened so quickly, like a strike of lightning, and he was on the floor, clutching the violin for dear life as he let out a gasp out of pain.

"Oh dear lord, what happened?!" Matthew jumped to help him, but instead of forcing and dragging him up, he rather sat on the floor next to him and embraced him while he was hurting.

"I don't know but... It hurts, so much", Alfred cried once again, his entire fragile figure shaking, clinging onto the protection that was his brother.

"Should I... Should I call someone? The ambulance?"

"N-no, don't. I'll be fine, I'll be fine, I--" He tried to say another word, but nothing came out except an almost silent scream. He held tight onto Matthew, not knowing what to do - he didn't understand where the pain was coming from, but it was instantly everywhere, at all parts of his body, not understandable at all.

The older American couldn't bare to see Alfred like that. "Okay, I'm calling them. You're in too much pain."

"Please, don't..." He gasped out, but the other wasn't listening.

Already dialing the emergency number on the phone that he pulled out of his pocket in less than a second, Matthew felt that he wasn't being held tightly anymore, and Alfred wasn't loudly crying. As he clicked on the call button, he glanced at the younger, and the awfully cruel realization hit him straight in the face.

Alfred had passed out.

\- - -

In the lonely apartment of a certain Englishman, an evening which brought a different sense of peace graced the atmosphere.

The man was sitting on the sofa, a notebook supported by an encyclopedia neatly placed on his knees, a pen in his hand, and headphones isolating him from any sounds coming from outside.

He was writing again.  
Just like he said, a new chapter. Named after Alfred, of course.

Blue. The colour which carries the meaning serenity, tranquility, inner peace, but also nostalgia, melancholy, sorrow...

And that's correct.

Blue is freedom. The sky, the seas, and the eyes of a loved one, the things I appreciate the most, though I've just met them.

Nothing is how it seems to be. I thought I would stay lonesome forever, but that's not the case. I thought the skies I'm under would always be grey. I thought I would always carry the burden of being an outcast on my chest.

I thought I would stay lonesome forever, I did. But that's not the case.

Blue changed my life.  
Ripped out all the already written pages in my book, sliced them into pieces, threw them into the fire, made me watch them burn as I cry.  
Took me by the hands, then turned me upside down.  
Picked up the ash of my burnt out soul and let them fly away in the wind.  
After all, starting a new life cannot be done in a peaceful way. It all moves so quickly, now when I think about it.

Alfred Jones changed my life.  
In the best way, in the worst way, in the stupidest way...

And I will write a story about him. In fact, I'm writing one right now.

As much as it seems so at first sight, Alfred Jones isn't as happy as he shows. And I didn't see that, I didn't read deeper into his eyes - I was blinded by the beauty that is the colour blue.  
But I listen. I listen and I take in what I hear, I feel it deeply and I remember it.

Empathy is something that has always made my life miserable. Feeling all that others feel... It can get really exhausting.  
But with Alfred, it's different. As he told me about his dark past, I couldn't help but make it my own, relate it to my personal history which might even be just as mournful.

Alfred Jones might have changed my life, but I want to change his, too.

Love is painful. Too painful to breathe.

And I'm willing to give it my everything.

I'm giving it my life.


	6. Lies, and Unexplainable Fears

"Is he going to be okay?"

In the shared apartment of the two American brothers, two nurses from the emergency were standing right beside Alfred's bed as the young man was lying down after he lost consciousness from the sudden, immense pain.

Matthew was utterly concerned, he didn't know what to think, and he was so scared that he could lose his younger brother. He didn't want that, especially because he almost experienced that once already, when Alfred tried to take his own life a couple of years ago.  
It was a sight he would never be able to forget - he found the boy in the bathroom after an attempt at overdose, and ever since it happened he was in constant fear for the other's health, both physical and mental.

"He should be, yeah. I don't understand why it happened, but everything seems to be normal now. Heartbeat, blood pressure, body temperature... It's all stable. We should take a blood test tomorrow, though. Just in case." The nice looking nurse with medium length blonde hair and a pale face was speaking in a monotone, but caring voice as she kept examining Alfred's well-being.

"I'm sorry for overreacting, then. I got nervous." The older American apologized for earlier happenings. Once the emergency arrived at their apartment, he was in a full mode of freaking out, on the edge of a panic attack - his mind made him believe that it was over, that Alfred was dying... When that really wasn't the case at all.

The shorter lady just smiled, waving her hand in dismiss. After all, they had seen people panicking much worse for their family members who needed help.

"Is he... Uh, is he going to wake up soon?"

"Well, if he's a heavy sleeper, he's going to be out until next morning." The nurse lightly laughed, easing the atmosphere. Her accent was thick, and it was clearly visible she wasn't a native English speaker, perhaps as if she was from a northern country. "Joking. He should be good in half an hour, mostly an hour. Don't worry."

All Matthew could do was sigh in relief.

And just like they predicted, he was awake thirty minutes later - the nurses were already gone, but Matthew still sat by his side and hoped with all his being that everything would be alright.

Alfred slowly opened his eyes, blinking a few times to get a clearer view of his surroundings as he shifted around in bed just slightly, parts of his body hurting a bit. Though, he didn't make any sound of complaint.

"How are you feeling?" His brother softly asked, almost in a whisper, and the younger didn't immediately form a logical sentence. It took him a few moments to understand everything that happened, and where he was, even who he was.

"I-I'm... Fine?" With obvious confusion in his voice, he replied nervously and sat up as much as he could. "Why... Why did I pass out?"

Matthew exhaled deeply, taking him gently by the hand. "I don't know. I called the ambulance, they said you were okay, but you'll need to take a blood test tomorrow. I think they said tomorrow, I'm not a good listener." He chuckled weakly.

I told him not to call them, dammit.

I don't want to see a doctor, I don't. I'm fine. All doctors can do is make up some kind of illness that I most likely don't even have, and scare Matthew to death because oh, I'm such a fucking important person to him for some reason.

I'll just avoid taking the test, that's it.

"I don't want that." He mumbled incoherently, looking aside and freeing his hand from Matthew's not so tight grip.

"Don't be stubborn, Alfred. You know they can help if there's something wrong, right?"

"But nothing is wrong! I know it's not, I know it and no one can prove me wrong! I'm not ill or anything, I'm just a bit tired, stressed and nothing more! There's no need for it, okay?" The American shouted out with his already weak voice, and it took him a good amount of self control not to burst into tears that exact moment. But it was so clearly visible that he was more than slightly shaky.

I've cried enough in front of him lately.

"Alfred, you need--" The other tried to speak, soon being cut off.

"I don't need anything like that. All I need is a good sleep, my violin and some time with Arthur. You know, the guy I'm supposed to spend my life with? And while we're at that, where's your precious Adrienne? You should go out with her sometimes instead of worrying for your little brother, for goodness' sake! Do you want to experience the same thing that happened to our parents?" By now, he was angry, but again, perhaps it was the fear overwhelming him more than the furiosity.

The fear of seeing his brother in pain.

The fear that something was actually wrong with his health, as much as he denied it.

The fear of losing Arthur, but at the same time the fear of getting dependent on him.

It was unexplainable, he didn't understand it himself.

"Alfred, Adrienne and I are doing great. We see each other every few days, alright? You are the one who obviously isn't fine around here, why can't you just accept the help I'm trying to offer you?!" Now Matthew was the one shouting, which was quite a rare occasion in the family.

Truth be told, he was only a tiny bit worried for his relationship with Adrienne. She was a French girl with gorgeous, long, hazel coloured hair who he met in cooking class a couple of years back, on the day when she was finally able to experience the magic of red, and he could see purple at last.  
But he knew he could deal with it, they both could. Their love was stronger than diamond.

To Matthew's words, though, Alfred just scoffed. "I don't need the help. A few years ago, I wished I was fucking dead, I think I'm doing much better now." He gave the other a sharp glare, his eyes showing nothing but pain he couldn't hide, no matter how hard he tried. "Now I just wish I wasn't so damn emotional over every little thing for no apparent reason."

And at that exact moment, their little conversation was interrupted by the loud sound of Alfred's mobile phone which stood on the nightstand just next to the bed. Both men glanced at the device, the screen flashing 'Arthur' as the caller name. Why now?!  
Alfred sighed in frustration, but picked up nonetheless.

"Hey, Arthur!" He said in a tone of fake excitement.

"U-uh, hey. I-I just wanted t-to see how you're doing, since, um, I... Yeah. God, I'm bad at phone calls, e-excuse me." There was a stuttering Brit on the other side of the line, and Alfred found that incredibly cute.

"I'm doing great! Just playing my violin, laying around a little... As usual."

Lies. All lies. Alfred hated lying, but he didn't want to worry Arthur.

"Good, good... Well, go ahead and enjoy yourself then. I'll go do my... Things... That I do. Yeah." The Englishman said, muttering out an awkward bye before hanging up.

Alfred stared at his phone for a couple of seconds, thinking about how that must have been the most awkward conversation of his entire life.

But again, he didn't blame Arthur. Not everybody had the social skills to pull off a bright tone and put on a cheerful spirit even when they weren't feeling that way.

At first not saying a single word, Matthew held a firm gaze directed at his brother, examining all of his movements, even the smallest ones. He noticed how he faked happiness while talking to Arthur, how he lied about what he was doing and that one, single tear that rolled down his cheek, appearing as he spoke. He payed attention to how he almost dropped his phone while trying to answer it. He spotted the tired facial expressions, a painful sigh and how his body was still lightly shivering.

All those signs disproved Alfred's 'I'm fine'.

"What's happening, Alfred?" At last, Matthew managed to almost silently ask. "I-I thought you were getting better, it seemed like you were... What brought you down again?"

But the younger just stared with perplexion. "What are you talking about?" He furrowed his eyebrows, pretending that he didn't notice the tears slowly making their way down his blushing cheeks.

"Just say it, say everything that bothers you, and I'll be there for you. Don't hold it in, you know what happened the last time you did."

Alfred knew very well what Matthew was talking about, but the last thing he wanted to do was fully open up, share everything he felt and be a burden to his own brother. But sometimes, it was impossible to bottle it all up inside. And when an opportunity to spill his guts was right here, right in front of him, he couldn't sustain from doing exactly that. "Promise... You won't tell anybody else?" He asked softly, receiving a confident nod as a response.  
Taking a deep breath, he sat in a more comfortable position on the bed, making sharp eye contact with Matthew. "Wait." Remembering something, he stopped before even starting. "I have my thoughts written down... Maybe it'd be easier if you just read it instead of me trying not to cry, honestly."

"Alright, where are the writings?" The older asked with patience.

"The light blue notebook in the second desk drawer from the top." Alfred recited, his voice turning into a mumble near the end of the sentence.

Without hesitation, Matthew made his way towards the boy's desk, taking the notebook in his hands as he opened the drawer.

A messy text was written on the cover - 'Secret things, don't read unless your first name is Alfred and your last name is Jones', and he couldn't help but lightly chuckle at the words. Though, it was barely heard, outweighed by the pain.  
In one simple, tender movement, he flipped to the first page, the only one filled out, and started reading.  
Much to his surprise, it was a poem.

'Afraid

Shake and tremble, it's what you get  
For not being strong enough  
Will you make it 'til the sunset  
Or are you not that tough  
Show me what you can do  
Confess all your fears  
Prove that you can pull through  
Despite all the tears  
What are you afraid of,  
Is it the harsh, cold truth  
Or is it what you're made of  
And you don't have any proof  
Who are you, anyway,  
Are you a child lost among the clouds  
Or a young man trying to live another day  
Dragged down by his doubts  
Afraid of loving, but wishing for love  
Afraid of living, but wanting to live  
Believing in the sign from above  
Doubting your own belief  
You're messed up, I know it  
Thought things were better  
You're just afraid to show it  
You know you just got sadder  
Nobody can save you now  
Nobody wants you around  
You don't understand how  
By the thoughts you've been crowned  
You're gone, you're not here  
Your mind is somewhere else  
Soon you, too, will disappear'

As Matthew silently read his brother's messily written out poem, his hands were almost trembling while holding the notebook, and he couldn't help but feel all the pain radiating through the words. Not all parts were understandable to him, but he was able to get the general picture of the emotions expressed in it. It was covered in fear, anxiety and sadness, and he didn't want Alfred to feel that way about anything. "Alfred, I-I didn't... I didn't know you felt like this." He stuttered out, averting his gaze towards the boy again.

Alfred didn't want to listen to whatever he had to say. He covered his face with a pillow on a brief second, crying in silence and not daring to even look at the other.

It was a big mistake, showing him that poem.

Not only because it's awfully written, but because he's even more worried now, and I didn't want to make him worried.

But I'm known for making mistakes anyway.

Yet for some unexplainable reason, his thoughts and spoken words didn't allign.

"I'm scared... I-I don't want anything to be wrong, I just want things to be okay and for everything to be fine with me and you and... I thought I'd never feel like that again, but I do, I'm just a mess and I'm sorry, okay? I'm not happy, I've never been happy and I'll probably never be happy, so don't try to make me... The only hope I had left was that none of you would think I'm feeling bad again. But you did, you saw through my poor facade a-and it turned out I was the blind one." Alfred, sobbing uncontrollably, wasn't able to hold back. Despite his mind telling him to stop, that Matthew doesn't deserve to carry his burden as well, he couldn't let go an opportunity to say out loud everythint he had been holding in for ages and ages now. "And if I continue acting like this, Arthur is going to see it, he's going to leave me, think of me as a nuisance... I don't want that, Matthew. I want to live a normal life, but it's just too fucking difficult!"

"B-but you... You've still done a fairly good job at recovery, you know. What was it, three years ago? Yeah, three years ago you wanted to disappear, and you've been fighting through ever since. And if you take that blood test, you'll be confident in your health. Okay? It's gonna be fine, Alfred. Trust me." Matthew sat next to him on the bed, gently embracing him as he cried his entire soul out, something he was embarrassed to do for a very long time. "Please, don't cry... It hurts me to see you in pain..."

But Alfred couldn't stop. It was all too much to handle, a flood of emotion washing over him all at once, and all he could do was just let it out.

He wasn't happy.

Despite people's judgements about him, despite what Arthur thought about the golden Philadelphian boy with sky blue eyes, he wasn't cheerful at all.  
Still, it was already too much for him that Matthew found out - he would just have to hide it.

Arthur wasn't supposed to know.


	7. A Spark of Madness

One week later

"Okay, let's see... Three boxes of mountain tea, jam, eggs, cereal, a new bullet journal, thin black markers, ink, coffee, paper, and about three more notebooks just in case. Everything a writer needs."

Arthur strolled down the streets towards the supermarket, trying not to bump into people as he was silently reading out his shopping list. His lists were never on the sane side - there were always little things like markers and extra notebooks which he could seriously live without, considering he already had a full stack of them at home.   
But what's a writer without a spark of madness, anyway?

Since he met Alfred, everything got four times crazier. They spent time with each other every day in the past week, and there was this incredible, amazing connection that neither of them could describe. He knew it would feel good meeting his soulmate, but this was good on a whole another level.

Although, after a couple of days, he started to notice more and more abstract, unusual things about the Philadelphian boy. For example, Alfred had a tendency to fall a lot. A bit more than the average person should. And it wasn't only that! In the past three days, Arthur could swear he heard the phrase 'Sorry, dropped my phone' in the middle of their conversations more than fifty times. It was concerning, in all honesty. 

But if Alfred said it was just clumsiness, then it must had been just that. After all, nothing else seemed logical.

"Arthur!"

Suddenly, the Englishman lost in thoughts heard his name being called from afar, and it snapped him out of the whirlwind of imagination. He was lucky for that, otherwise he would have most definitely bumped into someone along the way. 

He looked up, glancing around him to see who it could have been. The voice was oh, so familiar...

Of course.

The blonde haired, blue eyed American was fixing up his glasses with one hand, waving to Arthur with the other, almost letting his shopping cart roll away if there wasn't for Matthew, his older brother, to catch it right before it could slam into an old lady innocently standing at the yoghurt aisle. And Arthur couldn't help but chuckle.  
But still, did the universe really need to see them together at all times? The Brit's introverted mind required space and alone time without loud Americans following him around.

Though, without much hesitation, he approached the brothers in a polite manner, greeting like the gentleman he was. "What's up, you two?"

"Arthur, I missed you so much!" Alfred immediately embraced him in a warm, tight hug, perhaps a little bit too tight since he was out of oxygen in less then a couple of seconds. Nevertheless, he hugged back, less eagerly but with the same amount of love. 

"It hasn't even been twelve hours, you absolute fool!" He cried out, but in reality, he missed him as well. Arthur's years and years of loneliness were suddenly replaced by the warmth of affection, and he would not be able to reject Alfred at any hour of the day. 

It was too perfect to last forever.

Only a day ago had he written down as a furtherance of his infinite novel about Alfred: "In this bitter - sweet story we call life, we must keep that spark of madness within us at all times. Otherwise, we cannot function. And we must not ever lose it, once we get it. That is Alfred to me. At my lowest point, I was surrounded by mere darkness, and he lit a candle in my heart to keep it warm. I'll let that flame burn forever, nothing can take it away from me... No flood of negativity and depression can burn out a fire of love. And with love comes hope. Worth. Happiness. Love awakens the sleeping spirit within us."

It took him just seconds to get lost in his thoughts once again, and he forgot about everything, how he was currently still in Alfred's embrace, and how they were standing in the middle of the supermarket and perhaps receiving strange looks from the people passing by. And Matthew.

"Okay, will you guys quit it already? You've been hugging for like half an hour now!" The older American groaned impatiently, tapping his foot on the floor next to the shopping cart. Even if he adored seeing his brother in love, there was food waiting for them to buy it, and he didn't plan to waste any more time.

"Sorry, sorry", Alfred chuckled wholeheartedly, taking Arthur by the hand and immediately starting to talk to him as Matthew did all the shopping.

On the other side, when didn't he do all the work for the two of them?

So they walked, and talked, and did a lot more of that, meanwhile Arthur forgot he even had a shopping list in the first place. He spent half of their conversation absentmindedly gazing into Alfred's gorgeous, deep, sky blue eyes, still not down from his high since he first experienced the magic of the colour.  
And his ritual continued, as well. Each morning as he woke up, he greeted the sky. Simply because it reminded him of how infinite love can be once its strong enough. And it keeps expanding.

"Alfred, has anyone ever told you how soft your hand is to hold?"

A bit perplexed by the question at first, Alfred let out an airy laugh, but then nodded in response. "You have. About a hundred times in the past week."

"Well I'll say it a thousand times. I just... Really like that about you for some reason." Arthur's face took on a dark blush, but he didn't dare break eye contact.

"You're mad, Arthur. You're mad, and I love it."

Well, I cannot be mad without you.

\- - - 

Once they finally got home, the Jones brothers, along with Matthew's girlfriend Adrienne, all made themselves comfortable on the couch of the living room, losing track of time as they watched the television screen change colours and pictures - all three of them able to see each and every single colour.

Alfred felt like a complete third wheel, but Arthur gently denied his offer to join them saying he needed to go to the bank later in the day - definitely just an excuse for spending time by himself - so he would just have to hold it out. He was quite tired, and didn't even notice when he started slowly drifting away to sleep as he relaxed, leaning his head against his brother's shoulder.

Unfortunately, even that little bit of peace of his was broken by the loud ringing of the landline telephone only seconds after he slept. 

"W-what the fuck?" He shouted out, jolting upright in his seat, clutching his chest in relief when he realized it was just the phone. "Jesus christ, that thing is going to give me a heart attack once, I swear."

Adrienne burst into a laughing fit after that, and only Matthew felt responsible enough to actually answer the caller. He grabbed the receiver and quickly ran into the bedroom so he could have all the privacy to himself when talking.

"Hello?" He answered simply, but it sounded like a question by the way it was accented.

"Hello, are you Alfred Jones?" An unfamiliar female voice from the other side thoroughly surprised him. 

"No, but I'm his brother. Matthew. You can tell me the message, I'll pass it over to him."

"I'm here to notify you about the results of the blood test that your brother had taken about a week ago." She said, her tone getting noticeably more serious.

And Matthew could feel every cell in his body freeze at those words. He was the person who worried about Alfred's health the most, and he feared the results ever since he had done the test - which Alfred couldn't avoid taking as much as he tried to.  
"Please tell me. Any bad news by any chance?" 

"Well, I'd advise you to sit down if you have a chair near you, since we cannot really do this in person right now."

Shit. He's not dying, is he? I know he's not. Alfred's going to be fine, stop overreacting, everything is fine... It's nothing, it's probably nothing, and-  
Oh my god, I'm panicking before she even said anything.

He listened to the given advice and sat on the bed in a few shaky movements. Now it seemed like he was going to be the one dropping the phone.

"I'm sitting."

"Good. So, we've done a thorough research, and with the sample we were able to examine... There's generally nothing wrong, and any normal person would have blamed your brother's collapse on the lack of iron in the blood, but after a clearer DNA analysis we found a suspicious genome that stands out and doesn't seem ordinary to any of us. I'm sorry, we really aren't sure what to say yet, but with Alfred's confirmation we'll be able to send the sample to a full genetic examination. Of course, we need his signature for that, so it'd be useful if you could pay us a visit tomorrow morning."

"I-- A-alright. That's not a problem. Is it... Is it serious, though? Can you tell?" Matthew replied, slightly trembling at the simple thought of his brother suffering from something unusual, undetected, unresearched... Oh, it couldn't have been that. 

They must have gotten it wrong. He's fine! After all, what could it be? He tried to convince himself, but the doctor's words kept ringing in his head, and suddenly his vision was blurred. I cannot cry now, this isn't the time...

"We do not have much information yet, as I have said already. I'm very sorry, and I hope everything plays out alright. Best of luck to you and your brother."

And then she hung up, and Matthew was left speechless, tears filling his eyes to the brim as he held the phone receiver weakly in his shivering hand. He was paralyzed for a longer moment, images of what it could be flashing and dancing around of his mind, unable to focus on a single, particular one.

"H-he's okay. I know he's okay." The man whispered to himself, finally letting himself go and crying. 

How pathetic of me, I'm crying, and the doctor hasn't even told me anything specific! I'm so scared of losing him in any way, the smallest thing is able to break me.

"Matthew, are you alright?" 

Both Alfred and Adrienne stood at the bedroom door, as the older American didn't even realize how loud his crying could be heard. They were worried for what disheartening news he heard that it made him cry.   
Alfred didn't remember when he last saw his brother let it all out.

"What did you hear? Who called you? If someone hurt you, I'll beat their ass so much th--" Alfred quickly sat on the bed next to his brother, threatening whoever the person could have been. Though, he was immediately interrupted by Matthew himself.

"Alfred, I love you so, so much... A-and I don't feel like I tell you that enough." He said through choked back sobs, burying his face in his hands. The phone was on the floor, no one caring enough at the moment to pick it up.

"I-I love you too, but what happened? Why are you mentioning it all of the sudden?"

"Don't ask. J-just don't ask. Accept it." 

And Alfred did exactly as he was told, hugging his brother gently, Adrienne doing the same from the other side.

After all, Matthew knew that tomorrow morning he would get notified about everything, and right now he didn't have the heart or the energy to tell him that not everything was okay, the opposite of what they were trying to convince themselves all the time.

Alfred wasn't only Arthur's spark of madness. He was Matthew's, too. His undying optimism after everything that happened in the past lit up all of their worlds, gave them hope that the future would be fine.

If he lost that, he'd never be the same again.


	8. To Shake Off the Worry

Alfred couldn't sleep well that night.

Earlier happenings bothered him to an extreme, so he just lay on his back in the dark, staring at the emptiness above him that was the ceiling.   
Why was Matthew crying after receiving a phone call?  
Why did he suddenly become so affectionate, told him he loved him?  
And most importantly, why didn't he want to tell him the reason for the tears?

The only answer he received was 'We're going to the hospital, and you're signing a paper. It's nothing serious.'

Ah, but it must had been serious if it made him cry. Alfred wasn't stupid, unlike some people thought.

So many questions were spinning around in his mind, but he couldn't connect them to a logical answer. 

I don't know. He told me I'll find it all out the next morning, but why couldn't he just tell me right there? It made him cry, after all! It's something serious about my health, isn't it?

Dammit, I hate sleepless nights. I'm a wreck in the morning anyway, I don't need this on top of everything. 

What if it's actually something about Arthur?  
Oh god, if I lose Arthur I would not be able to go on. I think that would be my breaking point number two. 

Hah, I'm not so sure if I'm glad my first attempt didn't work out well. Perhaps it'd be better if it did. Now it seems as if I keep causing more trouble to the people around me.

What's with all the falling? I really don't know. It's making me confused. I mean, I was always clumsy, but... I swear, if I drop my phone one more time, I'm throwing both the phone and myself through the window. It's getting annoying.

After a while, he decided to embrace it. It was going to be a long, miserable sleepless night, but he was going to hold it out.

Oh, he wasn't the only one having troubles with his mind.

Across the hall, in the tidiest bedroom known to humanity, Matthew was tossing and turning underneath the bedsheets, shaking because of the sudden, overwhelming cold his anxiety had caused him. He could forget sleep for tonight, and was only able to focus on the existential struggles surrounding him.

Alfred. 

Something was wrong with him. He had always known that, but always tried to convince himself that it was nothing or that it would go away soon.  
But he remembered his younger brother struggling to walk at age six, he remembered the bittersweet memory from the park in Philadelphia - when Alfred fell face down onto the grass, rolled around and started laughing... Any other child would cry, but the boy wouldn't want to cause problems to other people.  
And their mother picked him up from the ground, dusting him off and sighing at how adorable that was for her. She couldn't spot a concern. Her boys were always happy, smiling, the cheerfulness visible in their eyes.

Now they were both being enslaved by life, coping unhealthily with each of their major problems. Matthew couldn't help but burst into tears.

He missed the days when they were just kids, careless and when everything was much simpler. He wished that he and Alfred could go back to spending time with their family in Philadelphia. He wanted their mother to be alive, and father to be happy, and everything to come together... But that was never going to happen.  
He was, unfortunately, the one to cling to the past at all times. Unlike Alfred, who had more of a futuristic mindset, thinking about the what if it happens rather than the it happened, why doesn't it happen again. And those thoughts had a tendency of making him miserable at the most unexpected times of day.

And when there was nothing left but the infinity of tears staining his pillow, he silently muttered a prayer to the god he didn't even believe in:

"Please don't take him away from me."

\- - - 

Morning arrived far too slowly for their taste, and both Alfred and Matthew drowsily got out of bed after six hours of staring at the ceiling and rethinking their entire lives. It was seven o' clock, and they had to be at the hospital in just half an hour. 

But perhaps it was the fear preventing them from getting dressed quickly and making their way to the outside world. It was paralyzing, and as much as they knew that Alfred needed to sign that cursed permission slip for further research, they didn't want to know the results.

And what was worse, the results would probably take a month, which would leave them with this strange emptiness and anticipation deep inside.

"Matt, I can't find my pants!" 

A shout from the younger brother's bedroom rang through the house, reaching Matthew's ears - the older was sitting in the kitchen and was pretty close to spitting out his coffee after that statement.

"Stop stalling and get ready! It's seven twenty, we're going to be so late..." He yelled back, but he wouldn't be surprised if Alfred had actually lost his clothing. It wasn't unusual. 

"I really can't find 'em! All of them! All of my pants are gone!" 

Matthew just kept quiet.

"Wait a second... Never mind, I found them!"

Knew it.

And when all that mess finally came down from its high, the two Americans made their way to Matthew's old, metallic blue Peugeot - that car was the first thing he bought when the two moved to England. It was comfortable, and not expensive at all. Maybe because of how ancient the thing was. There were scraps everywhere, thought that didn't bother Matthew. For him, the most important thing was that they didn't always have to rely on public transport rather than personal.

The travel to the hospital lasted about fifteen minutes, but that was only because Matthew quickly drove through two red lights, dearly hoping he wasn't noticed by the police. 

"We're here." He announced as he parked the vehicle, and stepped out of it with a loud slam of the door. Alfred followed him in a few slower, clumsier moments.

The tension in the air was so thick, one could feel it on their skin, and both boys were visibly worried - it was so clearly shown in their eyes. Though, none of them wanted to verbally express their concerns. 

Getting to the required floor of the tall, white building took about six staircases, since the first thing they saw as they entered was Lift is out of order, please use the stairs, and that didn't bring Alfred much comfort. He always struggled when going upstairs; it made him completely out of breath and red in the face, no matter how much he tried to exercise. 

"You alright there?" Matthew asked him, throwing a sideways glance towards his little brother.

"Yup, all okay." What an unconvincing lie. It was so obvious he was hyperventilating, but tried to hide it by doing it as quietly as possible, slowly regaining breath and calming himself down. 

As they found themselves in front of the ordination, in the waiting room with so many people sitting around, it just made things ten times worse. Everything looked so... Real. A tiny, curly blonde child walking on crutches, an old lady with a broken arm, two boys with casts on their wrists, a nice looking brown haired woman with bandages covering her left arm and partially her face, and so many others that both Alfred and Matthew had never before met.

After all, this was a department for general check-ups, vaccination and blood tests, so it was only logical for it to be swarmed by a variety of people who needed some kind of help.

But it made Alfred scared. He swallowed a lump in his throat and sat next to Matthew on a strange looking orange coloured seat, and waited.

"Hello! This is wonderful, more nice people to meet." The brown haired lady sat next to them with a smile, doing a funny salute to which Alfred replied with a startled, perplexed wave. Why did she try to start a conversation?

"Uh... Hi." He mumbled shyly.  
Meeting people never came easy to him - his socially anxious self would take over and all he knew of was fear of public embarrassment.

"My name is Elizabeta, but you can call me Liz. It's easier like that, you know? So, what are you two here for?" She had a thick foreign accent, but on the other hand, two Americans didn't have a right to comment on that while in England.

"I'm Alfred, t-this is my brother Matthew. Um, nice to meet you...?" He shared a nervous glance with his brother before turning back to the lively girl. "I'm here for my blood results."

"That's fun! I mean, taking blood tests isn't fun... But the results are! You know, a bunch of numbers and letters and all those little things to examine, it's pretty awesome. On the other hand, I've been called weird many times for liking it. Oh, well! I'm here because I did a stupid skateboarding stunt with my boyfriend recording it and somehow ended up in a really painful position. And then this happened." She chuckled while eyeing the gauze and bandages on her limbs.

Oh boy, she can talk. Both Americans thought to themselves, though they didn't mind a distraction from the overwhelming tension eating them inside out.

"Can we be friends by any chance?" Liz eagerly asked, examining the small nervous moments of the boy sitting next to her. 

"Well... W-would your boyfriend mind you hanging out with two guys?" Alfred raised an eyebrow suspiciously.

And Liz just laughed out loud. It was the loudest, most boisterous laugh that Alfred had ever heard. "Don't be silly! Look at him, he's playing with those kids over there." She pointed at a extremely pale young man with bleached blonde hair who was reading some of those children's books in funny voices, making the kids laugh and enjoy their time - it was like the couple wanted to shake off the worry from everyone's faces and make the hospital at least a somewhat enjoyable place.

"Then sure, why not. I'd like to meet him as well." Alfred chuckled, and Elizabeta looked very excited about his answer.

Matthew just rolled his eyes and smirked. He was happy that Alfred at least managed to make a friend for once. Though, he wasn't the one doing the talking.

"But would your girlfriend mind you hanging out with me?" 

And a second later, Alfred was the one to laugh. 

"Well, he's a very nice man, I'm sure he'll understand."

\- - - 

It took about two hours of waiting to finally be called into the ordination. Alfred and Matthew were utterly confused for why they even had to wake up so early if they would have to wait for such a long amount of time.

Nevertheless, they walked in, greeting the doctor and sitting themselves on the couch which was meant for the patients.

"Sure, take a seat." The redhead lady let out a short sigh at their very noticeable nervousness and fidgeting.

"To be honest, I just want to sign that damn paper and leave, without hearing any other information about my health and stuff. " Alfred gave her a small smile, but didn't dare make eye contact. 

"Are you sure about that? I mean, do as you please. All I need is your signature for allowing further research. Since, apparently, this wasn't enough. Pretty sure you're not going to die, though, so you can stop wearing that worried face on now."

Wow, rude much. I'm just not good at concealing my feelings, thank you very much.

"O-okay. Just give me the paper, please."

With a sharp glare, she passed him the permission slip and a pen, and silently waited for him to scribble something on it. In reality, she wasn't as apathetic as it looked like at first sight. She just didn't want emotions take over her life, so she rather repressed them until they finally burst. Her motto was always 'My ordination is a place to work, not cry'. 

God, those Scots.

After that unusual meeting with the doctor, Alfred and Matthew headed out of the ordination, seeing that the waiting room was now almost empty. Only Elizabeta and her boyfriend, who they found out was named Gilbert, were sitting on the orange seats and chatting their time away, since they decided to let everyone go into the ordination before them. They had time, so why not?

"You guys going in now?" Alfred asked, motioning for the big, wooden door of the doctor's room. Elizabeta nodded, getting up with Gilbert's help and headed towards the entrance. "I-if you want, we can wait for you or something."

"That'd be lovely." The couple replied.

Alfred never thought that something as outrageous as making new friends could make him lose his tension, at least for a while.

And he planned on keeping these people in his life.

At last, every person needs a cheerful friend who will shake their worry off.


	9. Confess All Your Fears

Alfred and Matthew were driving back home with a tingle of accomplishment that they didn't want to admit out loud. They made two new friends, something that hadn't happened in such a long time. Gilbert and Elizabeta even decided to give them their phone numbers, and as the brunette girl said: "I feel like you guys are something special, we will definitely get along well!" 

And by that, Matthew already organized a dinner party for Saturday night. Or, more specifically, a triple date with Arthur and Adrienne immediately receiving an invitation as well. Alfred was a tiny bit concerned that the Englishman would refuse, though, since he was quite socially anxious and got along better with his own mind and silence than the company of multiple people.

He would just have to make him come, that was the only way. It wasn't healthy to avoid socializing to that extent, and in all honesty, Alfred was worried about Arthur's strong will to stay in that black abyss called loneliness in which he had already spent so many years sulking.

So with minutes passing by, both Americans forgot the reason why they visited the hospital in the first place. Their minds focused on something else entirely, at least for a moment, and all the pain of yesterday was gone. At least for Matthew.   
Unfortunately, Alfred always had that nagging voice in the back of his mind telling him everything that was wrong, and those darkened thoughts kept surrounding the realistic, rational ones, but he always pretended like they didn't exist, never showing them to other people. And his older brother knew that. For quite a long time he had known that Alfred's mental state certainly wasn't the best, approximately since he was sixteen, yet he tried to ignore that as much as he could, he was willing to listen to the other's problems only when he was completely okay with sharing them. 

After all, with everything that had happened back when they lived in Pennsylvania, Matthew would be surprised if the two of them were alright. Especially Alfred, who was far more sensitive and felt everything so deeply that it was silently destroying him.

But now they were lazying around on the couch, Alfred on his phone, stupidly smiling - chatting with Arthur, but he'd never admit that aloud - and Matthew watching television, as if they didn't have a single worry in their lives. 

'You know, today I was writing about you again.' Arthur was always texting him the sweetest messages that would make him madly blush each and every time. And Alfred was dying to read his writings, the only problem was - he was never allowed to. But he swore to himself, the next time he visited Arthur's place, he'd distract him and read the writings.   
He knew how it felt, being an artist in any form. Feeling incredibly insecure about his music, always needing strength and extra encouragement to open up and finally show his talent to someone else rather than only himself. Arthur must had been like that, too. An extraordinary writer who hides the words deep within the drawers of his desk or under the bed. Perhaps if Alfred complimented his work, he would feel more confident in publishing it.

'Why won't you show me your writing? I bet it's amazing, so shut up before you tell me it sucks.' He typed the answer, clicking the button to send the message and glancing at the TV as he waited for a reply.

'Because it's terrible, and you'd laugh if you saw it. See, I didn't say it sucks. It just... Ain't good, or whatever you Americans say.' The response appeared on the lit up screen of the phone, and Alfred chuckled out loud, gaining even the attention of his brother.

"Who are 'ya talkin' to?" Matthew smirked after seeing the blush on the younger brother's cheeks. "Oh, must be Arthur."

'I told you to stop saying it's bad! Also ugh, be right back, gotta kill my brother real quick.' 

"Shut up, it's none of your business. Watch your cooking show or whatever." Alfred glared at him for a longer moment, struggling to keep a straight face.

"I just think it's cute how you're so in love, that's all. And 24kitchen is a good channel, don't you dare deny it!"

And so they engaged in brotherly, harmless banter for about half an hour or more, up until Matthew realized that he had much important work to do than fighting with his brother over changing channels and the television remote.

Or perhaps it was because Alfred won the battle.

\- - - 

Lying on a couch is a beautiful activity, and so is sitting on it, but not many people would agree that falling off it is nice, too. Neither would Alfred. 

Long after Matthew was gone, doing his work at the desk in the quiet, organized bedroom, the younger American was left scanning through every channel on TV and simultaneously texting the one he loved the most. Two times, he fell asleep on a short amount of time, but the second time he didn't wake up because of a text message and leaving the sound on, and instead it was because of falling on the floor and almost hitting his head on the edge of the coffee table in front of the TV.

He felt dizzy on a moment, wondering how he had managed to roll off onto the side in the first place, since he could be a heavy sleeper when exhausted. "Shit, how do I get up now?" He muttered under his breath to himself, sighing and trying to find a position from which he could get back on his feet.

Easier said than done, though, as he felt something pull him down to the ground, paralyzing him with a strange amount of pain spreading all over his body, and he suddenly wasn't able to move at all, only his mind active and panicking about what was happening. He tried shouting for help, but only a weak, inaudible noise escaped him. He was struggling to catch a breath, and couldn't even turn around or grab onto anything. So the only thing to do that seemed logical was shut his eyes tight and wait for it to go away, sleep the pain away. Being on the floor didn't really matter to him at the moment.

Everything was confusing. Why was this happening to him? He couldn't recall ever having such things happen to him before. It was only a bit of pain here and there, but nothing as extreme as in the last month or so. Something was terribly wrong, that was all he knew.

For goodness' sake, this is not why I left America! I wanted to live a better life, not fucking die. 

Though death doesn't seem like a bad option right now.

But I also don't want to die. Shit, I'm not dying, aren't I? That can't be right. If I'm gonna die now, the Universe must let me give Arthur a goodbye hug, that's all I'm asking for.

Little did he know, he most probably wasn't dying. Though, the sudden ache in his body was unexplainable, severe and very scary, and having to sign some kind of permission slip for further genetic research frightened him even more, he didn't want to know what was wrong.  
Knowing what his condition might be, and having a diagnose in the first place made him utterly petrified.  
But on the other side, he wanted to know. Perhaps that way he could get rid of it over time.

Without noticing at first, he began crying. But he couldn't do anything to wipe away the tears streaming down his face, so he only lay there, weakly holding onto the carpet since his hands were probably the only thing that hurt less than the rest of his body, for some reason. 

What if I won't be able to play the violin ever again?

That can't happen! I have to play, I have to teach Arthur how to play...

I'm overreacting. Of course I will be able to play the damn violin. It's the only thing I do, and I do it well.

Taking in sharp and short breaths, he gritted his teeth and waited for it to go away. Tingly sensations spread through his back up to his shoulders and he shivered, the feeling resembling being stabbed about twenty thousand times, unable to stop it.

Make it stop, make it stop, please, for the love of god, make it stop!

But the ache held him down for another minute before his body went entirely limp, drained out of every single atom of energy that was previously there. He gasped and felt himself completely relax, vision still blurry. It took him a good amount of time to finally realize what exactly happened, and after he did, he took the precious time to actually get up from the floor, all with great carefulness. He sat back down on the couch, letting out a string of hysterical laughter through tears and covering his eyes with his hands - he was petrified.

And he had to tell someone immediately. No, not Matthew, because the last thing he wanted to do was give his brother more burden about his health, especially when he was working, or maybe even sleeping by now. Who knew how much time he had spent on the floor.

So he called up Arthur, knowing that since they met, the Brit had his phone on him at all times in case of a call or text message from Alfred.

"Hey, Alfred, did you fall asleep again by any chance? I mean, I texted you half an hour ago last." The soft voice from the other side of the line was already so, so comforting to the American, he just started silently crying even more, blinking away the tears.

"I-I did." He managed to mutter out, not thinking about how difficult it was to speak.

"Are you alright?" Arthur noticed the stutter and the hoarse voice of the other, worry immediately forming inside of him.

"Can you come over b-by any chance?"

"Did something happen? I'm coming over right now, no doubt!"

"It's complicated... I-I'll tell you everything once you're here..."

"I'll be right there. Just stay calm, okay? Breathe."

Oh, Alfred wanted to tell him it was a bit hard to breathe when everything was hurting, but instead just whispered out an 'okay' and hung up on the phone, clutching the item to his chest.

He couldn't hide from Arthur any longer.

\- - - 

It took Arthur perhaps even less than ten minutes to appear at the door, not even bothering to knock and knowing that Alfred and Matthew, in all their madness, didn't lock it. And he was right.

"Alfred, oh my god, you're alive." Arthur let out an airy laugh, but didn't smile, and his deep, green eyes were shining with concern as he immediately took off his coat and threw it on the floor, running up to the couch and sitting next to Alfred, who looked like a complete crying mess. "Where's Matthew? What's going on?"

"I'm so glad you're here, Arthur", the American whispered, noticing how the other was out of breath as well. Arthur was running to see if he was okay. That's just how much he cared. "Matthew's asleep, at least I think so... A-and I'm so scared."

Arthur pursed his lips together, examining the boy top to bottom. His hair was acting wild, his entire body was lightly shaking, and his eyes were red from crying. He looked like he could use to eat more, too. "Why are you scared?" He finally asked.

So Alfred told him everything, finally confessed all his fears that he had kept bottled up inside or denied for such a long time. From the constant clumsiness that he used to not take seriously, to the panic attacks he got, the pain that consumed him entirely, the dark thoughts spinning around in his mind constantly, everything, absolutely everything. "...I wasn't able to move." He described the event from just a couple of minutes ago. "There was this weird, tingly pain, a-and I couldn't move at all, I was afraid that I'd stay like that forever, and it was so unbearable... Then it just... Stopped, all of the sudden, and I-I don't know what to do now." He told him about having to take a blood test, but avoiding to know the results, the permission slip he needed to sign, and Arthur just listened, took all the information in, and it hurt him as well. To know his loved one, the only person he cared about and trusted with his life, was suffering like this, it hurt.

The Englishman softly embraced him with care, wrapping an arm around him to bring the two of them close. It was the only thing he was able to do at a moment as heartwrenching as this one. Alfred leaned his head against the other's shoulder and just relaxed in silence, not knowing what else to say.   
"You're going to be fine," Arthur insinuated gently, "just try to remain positive. And that's coming from me, the most pessimistic person in the world, then you know that I really mean it. You're brave, and strong, and you are going to be okay."

The revealed secret that bothered him the most were the darkened thoughts, the negative mindset. He just wanted Alfred to be happy, just like he always showed he was, and like he acted... He didn't want it all to be an act. But if Alfred needed to cry, he'd be there to kiss the tears away.

"W-what if it's serious? What if I don't get to spend sixty years exploring the world with you? The Universe can't take that away from us, it just can't!"

"We'll explore every corner of the Universe together, Alfred." 

And with those words, Alfred couldn't take it anymore. He placed his hands on Arthur's arms making it impossible for the other to move, leaning in and pressing their lips together fiercely. Arthur widened his eyes in surprise at the sudden change of atmosphere, but accepted it nonetheless and kissed back just as eagerly. They stayed like that for some time, everything in the room quiet and the only thing that could be heard was the sound of their rapid breathing.

Once they pulled away, Alfred was left gazing into Arthur's mesmerizing eyes. "I love you so much." He breathily spoke, all the previous fear melting away into the kiss. There was only them, and the warmth that they shared.

"I love you, too, Alfred. Never forget that. I'll always be there for you."

Deep down, they both knew that now, things would change. Alfred confessing that his health was seriously on edge would leave them both a bit uneasy, but they currently didn't really care. The power of love so strong as the love of true soulmates was unbeatable.

All that mattered was that they were together while they still could be.


	10. Sooner or Later, the Fire Dies Down

"Ah, bloody hell! I'm terrible at this!"

"You gotta relax your hand, but tighten the grip at the same time."

"L-like this? This is difficult... And it also kind of hurts..."

"Yes, it always does at first. You're doing great! Now put your fingers here. Good, just like that."

"I think this just isn't for me, Alfred."

Arthur sighed, laughing as he followed the American's instructions on how to hold that damned string instrument of his, as if Alfred expected him to be an expert on the violin the first time he ever held it in his hands. It was a bit difficult, and his left arm already got tired of staying up for three minutes. After all, he was a writer, not a violinist. He usually worked kept his arms down - although, his right hand was as equally trained to hold a quill or a pen as Alfred's was to hold a bow. But Alfred insisted for them to relax their minds a little, and he almost begged on his knees to teach the other how to play. So Arthur couldn't just say no that easily.

"You're doing great, shut up." The younger man rolled his eyes with a loving expression on his face, and softly took Arthur's hand to show him how to properly hold the bow. "Though you are holding it like a five year old... Like me when I first started how to play. Oh, I remember the teacher shouting at me, she was from Texas, and her southern accent was so funny to me that I'd just start to laugh. And then she would laugh, too. Anyway, I'm getting off topic, aren't I?"

The Brit just listened, experimentally sliding the bow over one of the strings just to see how it would sound. 

And it must had been the absolute worst sound he had ever heard. 

"Why does it screech?!" He asked with a mortified expression, and Alfred burst into hysterical laughter, placing his hands over his ears from the painful sound. That had to wake up Matthew in the other room for sure. Not that he'd actually admit that to the two.

"Ah, well that's both your fault and mine. Yours because that's not how you hold the fucking thing, and mine because, well, I kind of forgot to rosin the bow." The American let out another high pitched chuckle and took the instrument from the other's hands. 

"You forgot to what the bow?"

"Rosin! That's the smooth thing that I gotta slide over the hair a few times so that screech doesn't happen again. Sometimes when I don't put any, the violin doesn't make any sound at all. Man, I don't know how I could have forgotten to do it. Again." As he spoke, he took out a box about two inches wide from the violin case, opening it and gliding it over the bow approximately five times. That's exactly how he had been taught. Even though most of the time, he would zone out while doing it and end up having thirty layers of rosin everywhere and sticky strings later on. And that took ages to clean.

Arthur watched the boy's every movement completely in confusion - this was all very new to him, he had never seen the close up of a violin before, and seeing someone do all the preparation before playing was just plain strange. "Ah, I-I see." He tilted his head, furrowing his eyebrows. "How about you play, and I listen? That way we have no deafening sounds but we do get nice music. A-also... I'd love to hear you play."

Shaking off the excess rosin from the bow, Alfred nodded with a slight bit of hesitation, and took the violin from Arthur's gentle hold. "Sure. Anything specific you'd like to hear?"

"Well..." The Englishman averted his gaze to the side. "The first night we met, you told me you write songs as well as play the violin. May I hear an original, please?"

"Oh god, uh, okay, um, don't hate me if it's terrible." Alfred laughed breathily, positioning the instrument on his left shoulder and the bow in his right hand. "Let's go for it, huh?" He flashed Arthur a grin and closed his eyes, immediately becoming one with the music he produced. Perhaps it wasn't the smartest idea to hand him the instrument not long after he had experienced a deadly amount of pain, but neither of them cared at the moment. They were both lost in the atmosphere.

Arthur listened to each sound carefully, watching in awe at how Alfred managed to play with such graceful movements, light as a feather - he made it seem so easy, but in reality, it took years and years of practice to achieve such perfection. He closed his eyes a bit after the piece had begun, enjoying it thoroughly, deeply feeling every single emotion expressed through the music. He could sense melancholy, nostalgia, sadness, but also undying optimism, the core of Alfred's true personality. It was mesmerizing, and left him speechless, only the sounds filling his mind. Tranquility. In his imagination, he saw a dark blue night sky, just a couple of stars, but despite their number, they were shining brightly. Just like Alfred's cheerfulness. He might have lacked it at the moment, but it was very visible, it fought endlessly through the sea of negativity that was constantly trying to drown him.

As the last beat of the melody rang through the room, Alfred opened his teary eyes, a shy, shaky smile tugging at the corner of his lips, and he didn't hold the instrument in the same position anymore. Instead, he relaxed, dropping it on his bed and flopping down right next to it with laughter escaping his throat. "I-I got a bit too into it, huh?"

"That was incredible, Alfred. That was... The best thing I've ever heard." Arthur sat next to the American with soft movements, wiping off the younger's tears and lightly kissing him on the cheek. "You truly are amazing, in every possible away. You shine. I might sound crazy, but... You shine like the most bloody powerful star in this entire Universe."

The American was left blushing intensely, covering his face out of embarrassment caused by Arthur's gentle spoken words and compliments. "T-thank you, I'm glad you liked it." He was also glad that he didn't drop the violin when playing, because he really wanted to show Arthur the best of his talent and himself. And he did it. "But... I really don't shine, I don't... It's the exact opposite, trust me. You're the incredible one. Now, if you let me read your writings--"

"No way in hell."

"I'll find a way!"

"No, you won't, believe me when I say it. A-and please, don't say such things about yourself. I know how you feel, I know that having this negativity pressing down on you hurts so much, I've been through it myself, but you have to keep that flame. You know what flame I'm talking about, right?" He expected a positive nod from Alfred, but instead received a confused blink. "The one deep within your heart and soul. The one which makes you Alfred Jones, the cheerful boy you are. Not the flood of sorrow, that's not you. And the fire burning inside you is wild enough to fight through, I know it." He sighed, placing a hand on Alfred's shoulder.

"You're far too poetic for me, Arthur." The American chuckled. "Joking, of course... Yeah, I understand what you mean. But I'm afraid it's too late, the fire is already burning out. That's alright, though. Sooner or later, the fire dies down. Wildfires aren't very popular among humans anyway."

"Alfred, you can't let yourself be burned out! You won't be! There are so many things that you have yet to see, so alive you will stay and happy you'll be. With my help, if you'd like. It's not weak to need help."

Alfred sighed, looking down in shame and defeat. He didn't want the flood to take him over, but he thought that he would never get his true happiness back. Not with everything that used to happen, and with what was drastically changing in his physical health, too. "Arthur... I was always the one to look towards the future, and Matthew was the one to cling to the past. We both know that. Yet with time, I've grown to constantly look back on times when everything was okay, even though I know I can't get them back. And I don't understand why. But when I try to look towards the future, it doesn't seem that bright either. I always await a tragedy at every corner. I can't live in the present either. Once you've been surrounded by four walls of pain and bottled up anger, you really can't escape that easily." 

"Don't keep in all the anger. Tell me everything, I'm here now. You will feel better once you say it out loud, trust me on that one." Oh, Arthur knew quite well how it felt to be surrounded by the mournful thoughts. Writing helped him tear them down, though, and even if they kept rebuilding, he would tear them down again and again.

"I... I don't think I can, there's far too much to say."

Arthur took Alfred tenderly by the hand - a small, but loving act to make it easier for the other to finally speak. "It's alright, love, we have all the time of this world." He whispered.

Alfred took a deep breath, not being able to immediately form a proper sentence. He gazed at the nothingness in the distance, exhaling before saying what he needed to say. "I'm angry, Arthur. I'm angry at my parents, because they had to split up and destroy my faith in love that I didn't have until I met you... I'm angry at my mother, for taking her fucking life, and leaving her children without proper care, with a sad alcoholic who only knew how to spend his nights out getting wasted with his friends, I'm angry at him for spending the slightest bit of money he earned all on drinks, although I was always very glad that he wasn't angry at me like I was at him. I'm furious at myself for trying to take my life as well, but honestly, I'm not so sure if I'm happy that I fucking survived, and I-I just can't do it, why can't I just die?! I'm only nineteen, I'm waiting to live, but I will never get to live like I wanted to. And perhaps I'm too idealistic, but... No one deserves the life that Matthew and I had. It was hell, and it's haunting me, still! And now this! Look at me, for goodness' sake! I called you in tears because I was scared of not being able to get up from the floor! I'm so angry at the Universe, I cannot even explain how angry I truly am... I'm sorry."  
By now, he was crying once again, but he didn't care - he needed it. Years and years of keeping everything in, it had to be said once. Arthur understood, and he just hugged the boy close, letting him sob into his shirt, though he was sure he could hear his heart shatter at the sound of such pain. 

"Don't be sorry, Alfred. I'm proud of you. You have the strength to recall it again, to let it out... Let the river flow, while you make the fire grow." 

"T-that sounds like a poem..." Alfred managed to mutter through the crying. "We should write it together... Don't you think that would be nice?" 

"That would be wonderful. But first, calm down a little. Take deep breaths. Everything is going to be alright."

Perhaps the fire dies down, but it doesn't completely disappear. We still keep the spark, and we can turn it into a flame again through time.

I'll keep him alive through the bad.

Alfred Jones will live forever.

Through a story.


	11. Dine and Dance, My Dear

October

The first week of October came too fast and unexpectedly for both Alfred and Arthur, and neither of them could catch time quickly enough, as it was running past them in a wild tempo, leaving nothing but dust and ashes behind.  
Autumn had completely settled over the British isles by now. Roughly described, nature was dominated by gold, orange and red, and the skies were slowly taken over by grey clouds, the previous bright blue visible only if one was lucky enough to look up towards the endless expanse at the right time of day.

This morning, Arthur got out of bed to a special Saturday - today was the date of the dinner party hosted in the Jones household.  
He was so scared, it was unimaginable. Not even his daily glances at the sky could calm the tension boiling up inside. Apparently, spending years locked in his room didn't make him good at socializing. Now his anxiety took over, and he saw himself in the worst, most embarrassing situations that might happened at the dinner in the afternoon.

"Hopefully I won't need to say a word, I know Alfred and Matthew will talk enough by themselves..." He sighed and muttered to himself, leaning against his arm and glancing at the outside world. In his own eyes, he was pathetic for an adult. He didn't have a real job, could barely talk to a person, and he felt as if, even in other people's company, he was lonely. His mind was far too stubborn to stop losing itself in thought and infinite imagination.

It wasn't like he was escaping reality, either. He was just overly worried about every little thing, and even the smallest sadness could make his entire day horrible.

This is just like my teenage years, he thought miserably. Nothing is good.

How can I be happy with Alfred if I sense that the Universe will take him away from my weak hands at any moment?

I'd rather be alone, then face such loss and grief. I would not able to cope.

And as much Alfred kept convincing him that everything was okay, it was clearly visible that their situation wasn't even near okay.  
It was like the once strong, invincible American boy was slowly disappearing with each day, and none of them still knew what was wrong. His figure got much slimmer, he was too thin, but he ate enough.  
He got weaker, smaller... And it was happening quickly, through the course of one single week, they couldn't stop it whatsoever. Matthew noticed it, too, but the brothers didn't want to mention a single thing. It was unbearable to watch.

As much as he physically could, Alfred would hang out with his violin - for hours a day, that was, because he felt that soon, he would not be able to hold it up at all. Arthur was always there, listening and clinging to each enchanting sound, his heart screaming and interrupting the music by saying how he would lose that melody forever once Alfred is gone.  
The golden blonde American knew very well what the Brit was thinking about, so he would just flash him many smiles and grins of confidence that they both knew was fake. But, it helped. Some optimism and hope was never a burden.

"Talk to me about it, Alfred, don't keep it in." Arthur would encourage him, but the other would shake his head in determination to keep everything in and not bother his loved one with his feelings.

"Artie, you're lookin' a bit uneasy. Just listen to the music, don't think about bad things. Bad things are... Well, bad." He'd reply, chuckling, and placed his violin on his shoulder with hesitant, struggling movements.

So how in the world was Arthur going to enjoy a calm and peaceful dinner party with some other people that he had never met before, if his first thought in the morning was always how Alfred was at death's door?

Well, that was a struggle for the afternoon. For now, he had only two jobs - to drink a soothing cup of tea and learn how to speak to people.

But he still wasn't able to catch time.

\- - -

"Come on, why don't I get to choose the tablecloth?" Alfred frowned at his brother childishly as Matthew spread a crystal white lacy tablecloth over their rinsed out, clean table of the dining room.

"Because you have horrible taste. I'm sorry, but how the hell does green go with our furniture?" Matthew threw him a sharp glance and sighed.

"It reminds me of Arthur's eyes!"

"You're such a sap."

"And you are only choosing the white one because Adrienne likes it better."

"Oh, shut it!"

But Alfred was stubborn enough to continue the quarrelling. Oh, and, he might have inherited a guilty pleasure for annoying his brother from his ancestors. "I'll spill the food on it on purpose, then your heavenly cloth will be ruined forever. How about that?" He smirked, a mischievous chuckle escaping his throat.

"If you do that, I am going to strangle you with my bare hands." The older American pretended to seriously threaten Alfred, but wasn't able to keep a straight face for more than three seconds.

And they both burst into laughter.

The entire living room was nicely decorated, since the Jones family didn't have guests in years they decided to do something entirely different, new and special. The magnificent smell of freshly cooked food and baked chocolate cookies was spreading from the kitchen through the entire space of the apartment, filling their senses with want. But they had to wait for the guests, of course. That was the only polite thing.

Not that Alfred didn't steal a cookie or two while Matthew wasn't looking, not at all.

As soon as everything was set and the clock ticked five, their entrance bell rang two times, and Matthew immediately dropped everything he was doing to open the door.

And he wasn't disappointed with the view he received.

"Bonjour", the French girl seductively smiled at him, leaving him wide-eyed and with a big smile on his face. She fixed up her gorgeous, long brown hair perfectly in a ponytail, only leaving the fringe fall over her sparkly eyes. A light purple coloured dress fell down almost to the floor, and a silver bracelet, that he had gifted to her ages ago, which neatly hung from around her wrist immediately caught Matthew's eye, that's just how striking it was.

"You look... Absolutely breathtaking." He said with a stunned voice, taking her by the hand and leading her inside.  
And Alfred was shaken up, too, because he didn't plan on wearing anything better than ripped jeans and an old, grey hoodie, and then miss Perfect walked in and dazzled everyone before the other guests even appeared. A hint of embarrassment was present on his blushing cheeks, but he tried his best to hide it.

"Hi, Adri", he greeted rather casually and made his way to the kitchen so he wouldn't bother the happy couple, knowing that from now on, he wouldn't be a part of the conversation until someone else appeared at the door.

He silently hoped it would be Arthur.

Apparently, luck served him that afternoon, because the desired Englishman he had missed so dearly arrived only fifteen minutes after the French girl, and Alfred gave him a gentle hug before showing him around the house and introducing him to Matthew's girlfriend.

Well, there was much more of Arthur trying to run away from everyone, than actually conversing with people.

"Relax, you are going to be fine." Alfred encouraged him with silent whispers when he saw Arthur zone out in the middle of their conversation. Adrienne wasn't the type of person to judge someone easily, and she knew very well what severe social anxiety can do to people. She just wished that she could make the man open up slightly more, even if she only met him a couple of minutes ago.

"I-I don't know what to say to her...! Do I compliment her clothing? Or does that sound too flirty?" Arthur whispered back in fear.

"You're literally in a relationship with a guy. Do you really think that she'll find you flirty? And just, y'know... Ask what kind of cake she likes. Offer to say something poetic. Adrienne falls for good poetry so easily, I know that."

"Yes, Alfred... She falls for good poetry, not mine." Arthur sighed, leaning against the kitchen wall which made it difficult for Matthew and Adrienne to hear them speaking at all. Luckily.

"Stop it... You'll do great. Now go out there, we can't hide in the kitchen forever."

Arthur nodded hesitantly, taking a deep breath before the two of them came back to the living room where they found Matthew and Adrienne slow dancing to a song on the radio. More like, she was dancing, and he was trying his best not to look stupid and to follow along.

Alfred rolled his eyes, sometimes really annoyed by the affection she showed to his brother. It got on his nerves when things got too much right in front of him. And he never did that with Arthur, anyway. But now, the only thing that came to mind was taking the Englishman by the hand, gently bringing them closer together so that they looked at each other straight in the eyes, Arthur immediately blushing and not knowing how to act in such a situation.

"A-alfred, I don't think this is the best idea--", he whispered in a flustered tone.

"...You're right, I have a better one. Wait right here." Alfred chuckled silently, releasing Arthur's hands and sneaking over to his bedroom while the two were still dancing, now to a different song.

Arthur was left dumbfounded, staring at the wall awkwardly as he waited for Alfred to come back, having no clue where he had gone.

It took the young American less than a minute, and then he walked back into the living room in a few graceful movements, holding his violin in one hand, and the bow in the other. Motioning for Arthur to turn off the radio while Matthew and Adrienne weren't looking, the Brit did exactly that, raising an eyebrow at what his plan was. He didn't even have to rosin the bow, since he had already been playing this morning and didn't put the instrument back in place, leaving it spread on the bed instead.

Once Arthur pressed the turn off button, two perplexed glances turned towards them, and Alfred just grinned, placing the instrument on his shoulder before starting to play.

And both Matthew and the French girl immediately caught on.

The resonant, sweet tune of Por una cabeza rang through the room as the blond boy melted into the music, the couple immediately starting to dance again, both with playful looks on their faces.

And I'm left speechless once again, Arthur thought to himself, chuckling at Alfred's unpredictability. He was always able to stun him in different ways, never disappointing.

Once he got to the refrain of the song, his movement visibly increased, and he closed his eyes to fully become one with nothing but the rhythm.   
It was a powerful tune, kind of soft, but fierce at the same time, a romantic dance and a filling melody. Alfred adored playing it, and now was his chance to actually do it in front of people. And the best of all, he had just practised it again the other day, as he clung to his violin daily like it was his dose of oxygen.

"Done!" He exclaimed loudly as the last beat of the song was played, and everyone in the room immediately clapped.

"That was some good synchronization of movements." Arthur muttered to himself, too afraid to vocalize his opinion out loud.

Adrienne and Matthew both clapped, laughing at how they got tricked, but in the best way. "That was wonderful!Très bien!" She complimented.

"Merci", Alfred smiled wholeheartedly and responded in the worst French accent possible.

Though, their little party was soon after interrupted by loud knocking on the front door, and the American brothers instantly felt intense excitement - Gilbert and Liz were definitely here. 

"I'll get it!" Alfred ran off towards the entrance, opening the door. "Hey, you two. I'm super glad you came over!"

Elizabeta and Gilbert walked into the room, both grinning happily and immediately getting to know everyone around. In fact, Adrienne and Liz took less than ten seconds to already hug and talk like they had known each other for ten years, complimenting each other's clothing, and worrying about whatever the hell happened to Elizabeta when she earned that cast around her arm.   
She was wearing a black skirt down to her knees, dark coloured boots and an olive green sweatshirt, a flower holding up the fringe of her incredibly long brown hair. All in all, both of them looked amazing. 

"Oh, by the way, your mailbox was open so we grabbed the envelopes and quickly closed the thing before someone else took it. Don't forget to lock your things next time, alright?" The girl chuckled and handed the mail to Matthew, who only gave it a quick glance and thanked her before putting the items aside.

He didn't show any worry on his face, but after what he saw at the cover of the smaller, blue envelope, he was a hundred percent sure he wasn't going to be able to eat any dinner tonight.

It was a letter from the hospital.

The results had come earlier than they thought.


	12. I'm Numb, He's Burning Out

The radio was back on, everyone was sitting around the table, and each person had something to say except the awfully shy Englishman. Yet he didn't mind at all, taking in every word that the others were saying and only sometimes agreeing to what Alfred said with an almost silent yes. The food was absolutely delicious. Elizabeta labeled it heavenly, Adrienne said something in French that only Matthew was able to fully understand, but from the look on her face it was clear she was enjoying it, Gilbert gave it an entire list of compliments...

But Matthew couldn't eat.

He took a couple of microscopic bites here and there so he wouldn't seem suspicious or tense, but his stomach turned at the thought of what might be in that letter that Elizabeta brought for them.  
Also, he learnt his lesson about keeping the mailbox open, but there was luck in having such caring friends.

"Are you feeling alright?" Adrienne whispered over to him in French so no one could get what they were saying, in case they heard. She noticed that he suddenly looked a bit paler than usual, and he didn't eat quickly, a thing that was a habit of his that both she and Alfred knew.  
Though, the younger American didn't comment. He didn't want anything ruining this night for him, no matter how selfish that sounded, sometimes a break from negativity is just so needed.

"I'm fine, don't worry." He smiled, replying in the same language.

And as soon as she was going to tell him to relax, Alfred spoke up and interrupted their little conversation.

"You know, there is this really cool music competition in the city somewhere near the end of October and I would love to attend it, but I don't know who would be my accompanist on piano! Do any of you know someone?" He happily asked, and Elizabeta almost jumped out of her chair at the announcement.

"I play piano!" She shouted at the top of her lungs, practically scaring everyone aruond her. "I'd love to do it, Alfred."

"But... You still have a broken arm and all that." He commented.

"It will heal until the end of this month!"

"But... We need to practise, too. Oh, you know what? Screw practice! You'll be my accompanist!"

And so they laughed cheerfully, already excited for the competition even if it was weeks away.  
Alfred couldn't miss the opportunity to play the violin on stage, just one more time. The reason he wanted it so badly was because he didn't believe that he'd live that long, and he got incredibly scared with the changes that had happened only over the course of one week. So time should just hurry up, let him play as soon as possible - but again, he wanted it to slow down. It was conflicting, and his mind was battling itself constantly over the same thing. Time.

Be careful, Alfred, Arthur was thinking, zoned out from the conversation once again. Don't make Elizabeta do the contest by herself. Oh, how he dreaded everything so deeply, the sorrow wouldn't leave him alone at any hour of the day.

"I just realized... Matthew and you look so similar." His thoughts were broken by Elizabeta's high pitched voice. "You both have blond hair, blue eyes, wear glasses, only Matthew's hair is quite longer. And he has much better clothing style." She teased. "Sorry, that's just the truth", she shrugged, and Adrienne immediately agreed.

"Wow, I didn't know we are gathered here to attack me. Oh, how you wound me!" Alfred placed his left hand on his chest, pretending to be insulted, but in reality, he understood what they were going for. Everybody else at the table was dressed as if they were attending a goddamn wedding or something, but he wore something a sixteen year old boy would on a casual school day. Though, he didn't care at all.

Arthur and Matthew weren't able to laugh. The two shared a glance of fear, doubt and apprehension, their minds stuck in the same place-

"I-I'm sorry... I need to go." Matthew finally stood up from the table in a few quick movements, swiftly grabbing the mail that he left on the counter and storming off to the bedroom. It was eating him alive, the fact that he didn't know, the fact that it could be anything...

Everyone who sat at the table was left speechless.

Alfred gently got off the chair, sighing with intense worry. "You guys stay here, I'll go check on him." He said in a saddened voice and was soon out of sight, closing the door behind himself as he walked into Matthew's bedroom.

He stood there for a longer moment, only gazing at Matthew who was shakily opening some kind of small envelope, and then he finally dared to ask. "What is that?" His heartbeat increased at the thought of what it could be, sitting next to his brother on the bed.

"I-it's..." The other didn't know how to reply. "I... The results, they're here..."

"...Oh."

So it was that. The thing he had feared the most, and now it was right in front of him, the time and date of his death, as he thought.

"Well, read it then. W-we have nothing to lose, do we?" He continued, the distress causing him to go almost out of breath.

And Matthew did as he was told.

Alfred caught the glance of a couple of sentences only, but that was enough for his vision to suddenly turn blurry, his heart clenching in his chest and body going momentarily numb.

"Oh, my goodness." He managed to say in an almost incoherent, weak mumble. "S-so I'm... I'm--"

"Yes." Matthew interrupted before he could say anything. "I can't believe this." He couldn't even hide the tears making their way down his cheeks, and Alfred just silently embraced him, even though he was in a state of shock himself, he wouldn't let himself cry so openly next to his brother once again.

But now they knew, and nothing could take these news away from their mind now.

"It's fine", Alfred comforted shakily, "it's all fine."

"No, no it's not, it's never going to be fine, Alfred! You are-- You are dying, don't you understand?!" He snapped at him, entire body shuddering as he cried and cried, not knowing how to comprehend such awful news.

And the younger was left wide eyed at his brother's outburst. "Please, calm down... We can't be sure in that, things can always change..." He didn't even believe himself.

Everything was too painful to bear at this point.

Perhaps if they had known about his condition at a younger age, things could turn around for the better, but now, it was far too late to try and change anything, and both of them knew that well. "I-it can't." Matthew tightly hugged him, crying into his shirt, noticing how small and weak he actually already was.

"We have guests waiting, you know." Alfred gave a fake chuckle, still trying to change the desperately miserable atmosphere they were currently in. "They must be bored by now."

"Oh, Alfred... How do you... How do you stay so optimistic? Aren't you worried? Aren't you devastated?"

"It doesn't matter."

\- - -

As time went by, it caused commotion between the people in the living room. Arthur was numb and pale faced, staring at something invisible in the distance as his mind went through all the possibillities, only the worst ones.

Elizabeta tried to calm everyone down, but none of them dared to knock on that bedroom door and ask what was going on. They just weren't able to, and they knew what privacy meant.

"Oh, for goodness' sake, does anyone know what's going on with them?" Adrienne finally asked, covering her face with her hands, letting out a long, pained exhale.

"I-I might."

A soft, almost inaudible voice. An articulate English accent. Everyone turned to Arthur, who kept a firm glance at the nothingness, his face turning a dusty shade of red at the sudden attention he was receiving.

"Tell us, then!"

"Well... Liz, y-you brought their mail, and I spotted Matthew grab an envelope before he stormed off." He began speaking, his hands unsteady and his voice cracking from the uncertainty he felt. "It might have been a letter from the hospital."

"The hos-- oh, oh, I have a clue...!" Elizabeta joined the conversation. "We literally met them there, and they were waiting for some kind of blood test results. So then Alfred had to sign a paper, I remember, but I forgot what for. They did tell us on the way home, though..."

"Special genetic research." Gilbert added.

And then it dawned on each person in the room.

Adrienne softly gasped, meeting Arthur's eyes. "Alfred suddenly looks much thinner, doesn't he...?"

The Englishman nodded. "I've worried about him for quite a while now, honestly." He looked down. "But it's going to be alright."

All of the sudden, food wasn't tasty for any of them. Tension flooded the room, and no one knew what to say next. "What do you mean by that?" Elizabeta asked.

"I..." Arthur stumbled across his words, struggling to form a proper sentence. "I'll keep him alive."

"And how do you plan on doing that?" She held back an eye roll. As good as that sounded, it could easily be impossible, since none of them knew Alfred's condition yet.

"I've been writing." The Brit gently spoke, the tone of his voice as tender as a feather. "A story about him. I-I don't like saying that out loud, goodness..."

"No, please continue."

"No matter what happens, Alfred will still live on, his spirit deep within the words. I won't let his flame burn out."

And he couldn't even mutter out the next sentence, the reason being Alfred and Matthew finally appearing from the bedroom, trying their best to hide that they were both crying not long ago.  
"We're so sorry for keeping you all waiting", the younger breathily laughed, unexpectedly receiving a hug from Elizabeta who ran out of her chair, not caring that her arm hurt from the rapid movement.  
He was awestruck, letting himself melt into the warm embrace, but unaware of the reason behind it.

"Don't apologize." She whispered. "We're friends. We can be a friend group, in fact... And friends stick together through the bad times."

"Wait", Matthew furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, "do you know what has been going on? How?"

"We don't exactly", Gilbert frowned, "but we managed a somewhat weak conclusion." He sighed painfully. "And we don't want our theory to be true."

Arthur's words left a trace inside each of their hearts, and they would never even dare to forget that hope that maybe, by some kind of magical law of the universe, Alfred would live because of the Brit's stories.

"Nothing is wrong, actually." Alfred lied, gently pulling away from Liz's hug. "I'll be perfectly fine."

You liar, Arthur gazed into his eyes from his seat, already knowing the small fidgety movements he would do when he lied. Oh, but this wasn't a little white lie, this plain hurt to watch. You are disappearing, and you don't want any of us to know. But it's so obvious, you know, we can see through your weak defense.

It's official.

I am going to lose him...

Everything left behind him will be a story on paper.

And a burned out candle.


	13. Maybe I've Done Enough

Evening made its way to the British isles, and soon everyone who was previously visiting the Jones household already left, making their way to their own homes. The exception to that was Adrienne, who stayed with Matthew in his room and comforted him about the situation which interrupted their dinner party. He explained everything, from word to word, and she couldn't help but feel her heart clench when she read the letter in the blue envelope. After all, she liked Alfred a lot, and they were close considering how she constantly visited since she met Matthew.  
It came to her as an enormous shock that the cheerful, energetic, young American boy she had once known was losing his true self, and slowly his life as well.

Arthur had gone home by Alfred's request, as strange as that sounded. Though, he understood that the other needed some personal space to comprehend and process everything that was going on with him - and he knew very well that the second the dinner party ended, Alfred must have gone to his room to hang out with his violin.

And that was exactly what happened.

He had to make it to that competition with Elizabeta, he just had to. Even if it meant taking a bunch of medicine that probably doesn't even help in reality. He just needed to play on stage one more time in this life.

Now, Matthew and Adrienne were lying on the American's bed, breaking the situation into pieces to discuss it and perhaps find a possible solution themselves. Though right now, the possible slowly became impossible, and all they were left with was the unbearable dread on the inside, since both of them knew what was coming. Or at least expected it.

"You know, there must be something that the doctors can do about it. Maybe a surgery, or therapy... It seems to me he is still really fine for the most part. He can walk properly, talk a lot, and still play the violin." The French girl sighed, taking her lover's hand and making him turn his head towards her. She always knew he was very sensitive, unlike most men that she had met during her life, and in moments like these, he needed all the comfort he could get.

"I don't believe that, Adri... He was always a bit too clumsy for it to be normal, but lately it got so much worse. He even dropped the violin from his hands, imagine how that must've felt for him, not to be able to play properly." Matthew chuckled bitterly, the endless pain visible in his previously teary eyes. "I just... I don't want to lose him."

"I know it hurts." She gently spoke, cuddling up to him and slowly running her fingers through his soft, golden hair. "And I wish I could tell you that he'd survive, that everything would be okay... But those words are such a cliché, and we don't know if they are true for sure. So I'll just be here for you, kind of like silent moral support."

Matthew just blinked away the tears that threatened to spill, putting an arm around her and bringing the two of them even closer together. That was just what he needed to hear. He knew she would always be there for him, but hearing it being spoken so tenderly made everything so much easier.

"Thank you."

That was all he was able to say.

\- - -

In the room across the hall, a boy was sitting on his bed and playing the violin with graceful movements gracing each beat of the piece he performed to himself.

It was Chopin's Mazurka in A minor, and every note filled the air with melancholy, a different kind of sadness that suffocated him from deep within, it was unexplainable. He choked back tears as he played, trying to concentrate on the present moment and become one with the music as he usually did it, but this time it just wasn't working. The sorrow got the best of him, and even though he desperately tried to fight back with the power of music... He was failing. Not in the piece itself, which sounded beautiful in mesmerizing, but in the attempt to heal his broken mind with the sound.

Right now, it hurt him even more.

He was completely aware that there would come a time when he wouldn't be able to play anymore. There would be only darkness in his paralyzed body and mind, and he was absolutely frightened of the moment that would happen.

Anyone who didn't know him well enough would say that the boy sitting on his bed surrounded by thousands of old music sheets was completely fine, but once they would get a closer look, they'd see how deceived they were.  
He was not even close to fine.

Maybe I've done enough.

Maybe it's good that I won't be around much longer.

Though, I'm fighting my own mind once again.

I've wanted to disappear for quite a long time, but now when I know it's actually going to happen, and very soon, too, I regret ever wishing for it.

At least a part of me does.

Now I'm focused on solely surviving until that competition is over.  
Then, I'll be able to freely say...

I've done enough.

As he played the last beat of the melody, Alfred sighed shakily and blinked a couple of times, trying to silently tell himself to stop thinking like that, convincing himself that this was all a giant nightmare he would soon wake up from...

And it actually was.

To him, this life had been a nightmare for as long as he could remember, except in some of the earliest years of his childhood. And still, death was something he had learnt to dread despite everything.  
It was strange, confusing, and always managed to leave him breathless.

Suddenly, his endless train of thought was broken by a painful stab that spread through his entire right arm, making him gasp loudly and drop the violin bow onto the ground beneath. He was still holding the instrument tightly in his left hand, now softly putting it aside on the bed as he tried to chase the pain away, feeling miserable because of such things happening to him in the first place.

He glanced down onto the floor where the bow was, wanting to pick it up and continue onto the next song despite everything, but something kept him chained to the bed he sat on. "Move, goddammit!" He shouted at himself through gritted teeth, but nothing worked. "Come on! Don't be so weak! Move, you idiot!" At that moment, he realized that he screamed out loud, slamming his fist on the pillow next to him and instantly breaking into tears. "Stop this!" He weakly demanded through sobs. "Please... Let me move."

It didn't take a minute, and the door to his bedroom was rapidly opened, a panicking couple standing at the entrance, both wide eyed and already rushing to help him.

"Don't move, we'll help." The French lady spotted exactly the thing Alfred needed on the floor, and she knelt down, picking it up and placing it onto the spread out palm of his right hand. "Come on. Try and grab it as gently as you can." She looked him in the eyes, nodding her head as a form of encouragement.

And he did. Giving it all the strength he had, he enclosed the tip of the bow with his hand.  
Adrienne smiled at him softly, but frowned as she looked away.  
In his eyes she saw him longing for a life he couldn't have, and it made her so sad to see such misery in someone close to her.

Matthew sat onto the bed next to his brother, embracing him in a single tender movement, guiding him through the situation. "Breathe in, and out." He said. "And again."  
Alfred repeated the action the best he could, but everything was so overwhelming to him to the point where he felt he was going to throw up right there, that's how high the tension was.

"I don't know what I would do without you", he could barely find the right words to say, and speaking was a bit difficult with all the numbing pain, both physical and mental, and the panic encircling him. "I'm sorry for being such a nuisance."

"You aren't being a nuisance, Alfred. You require help, and we are willingly giving it to you. We love you, never forget that." Adrienne convinced him that it was fine, but that was quite difficult to believe. "Stop thinking of yourself as a burden."

Alfred wanted to say something in return, but all that escaped his lips was an inaudible mumble as he lightly leaned onto Matthew, his eyes closing involuntarily. 

And in the next second, all that could be heard was a sound of a wooden item falling from his hand and onto the floor.

He wasn't able to stay awake.

\- - -

Meanwhile, at a certain Englishman's house, there was a different atmosphere, but with the same amount of heavy concern draining the oxygen from the air.

Arthur was pacing around his small bedroom, cursing to himself under his breath and trying to stop the spiraling thoughts that were starting to take over him, each an every single one of them revolving around the same thing - Alfred.

A bit earlier, just as he got home from the dinner party, he tried to write his outburst of emotions down, but nothing work. One by one, papers of smudged ink flew into the burning fireplace which stood next to his desk. Nothing was good, all of his words were messy and uncreative... But the storm inside him kept growing, and he didn't know how to stop it.

"How can you do this to me?" 

It started off as a mere whisper.   
He gazed at the sky through the window, tears freely streaming down his pale face, and cursed every single bit of the universe for making him and his loved one go through such desperation.

"Why are you so cruel? I knew it... I knew it since I was very young... You have always had something against me, didn't you?!" 

And then it turned to shouting.  
Constantly taking rapid breaths, he leaned his face against the cold surface of the window, sobbing in all his misery.

"It's fine. It's all fine, as long as you get rid of me, but leave him alone! Can't you see the purity in him? Are you already far too blind to spot the kindness, the passion that he holds so deeply inside?" 

Soon enough, he was screaming, a wave of insanity washing over him and making him almost fall onto the floor. Yet he kept himself steady on both feet, throwing pillows around like a mad man and wishing that none of this was happening.

"He did so much for you, and that is how you repay him? I hate you! I bloody hate you!"

He hated himself for not being able to keep his strong emotions in, but that's how he always was. A dramatic soul, empathetic, and too emotional for his own good. And when true love was in question, he was bound to go absolutely crazy.

"Please, for the love of everything, let him live... If you take his life, I'll take yours! As impossible as that might sound, I'll... I'll curse you with infinite darkness! Because guess what - I'm still a writer, and I will tackle on the Universe if I need to!"

Scream, scream all you need, his mind kept telling him, and he listened.

He turned to his desk, taking jars of his favourite pens and throwing them onto the ground, glass shattering all around him, each piece representing bits of his sanity that was slowly being torn apart once again.

As soon as he thought he was going to get it back.

It took only one stronger cry of agony for everything to reach its lowest point.   
He grabbed a stack of papers, not caring what they were, and in the heat of anger and anguish, threw them into the fire without hesitation. 

He wasn't thinking.

He didn't see clearly.

And then reality settled in.

"No!" He almost shrieked, throwing himself onto the ground towards the fireplace, vision blurry and hands bloody from the shards of broken glass. 

Only one page of the writings survived, and he grabbed onto it as if his life depended on it. But in reality, it wasn't his life that depended on these burned down papers that already turned into dust and ashes all around and in the fire.  
It was Alfred's.

The Universe will keep him safe until the end. All my doubts will be gone, and only a happy life will remain. It said at the top of the page, but Arthur couldn't stand to look at the words anymore. Instead, he sat up on the floor despite everything and took a couple of deep breaths, finally understanding to what kind of mess his insanity had brought him to.

He lost all his writings, the papers that were supposed to protect the one he loved the most. But he had to be selfish, he had to lose his rationality in that single second...

"I'm sorry, Alfred", he whispered, "I failed you."

And with those words, he let the last page burn.

"I'm sorry."


	14. With All That I Am

The next morning, Alfred woke up in a haze.  
So many things were happening the day before, but all he could clearly remember word by word was that cursed blue envelope and passing out after hearing Adrienne's comforting voice and feeling Matthew's tight embrace. Everything else was a total blur.

He blinked a couple of times, looking around and trying to comprehend where he actually was at the moment.

But logic gave him the answer.

And after he found it, he wished he could run away from the space around him, even kicking and screaming if he had to, because he knew that he was going to be stuck in here for quite a long time - away from home, humanity, nature...  
Four white walls of a hospital unknown to him were everything that surrounded him now.  
Strange white and grey coloured cords were hanging from the ceiling and the machines next to him, one silver metal box accurately reproducing sounds according to his heartbeat. There was a silent, small television screen playing News Channel in the corner, and right next to it a table with so many pencils and papers to the point where he thought he must had been at the children's section with all the colouring books and unfinished drawings.  
He was chained to the bed, dressed in a white night gown, hooked to an IV tube and all in all, isolated from the rest of the world.

"I was worried you wouldn't wake up." A familiar, soft voice next to him spoke up, and he slowly moved his head towards the person that he previously didn't even know was there.  
It was Matthew, his brother, who had never in his life felt so concerned. His eyes were tired and he barely kept his head up from staying up all night.

Alfred wanted to ask so many questions, tell him so many things and expose thousands of feelings, but all that he managed to mutter out was a near silent hey.

"Are you okay?" The voice questioned, to which Alfred just lightly shook his head. "Please, say something..." He sounded almost desperate.  
It was visible in his eyes that he was crying earlier, and that the sleeplessness completely took over.

Last night, when Alfred lost his consciousness, they immediately took him to the emergency room, and Adrienne didn't hesitate to drop the party clothes and get into the white doctor's gown she wore to work every day. Even though she usually worked at the cardiology unit of the hospital, being a good worker she explained how this time, staying with this specific patient at the neurology unit would be a good idea in the current situation.  
And they let her stay for the night.  
After all, she knew very well how to take care of someone in critical need like Alfred, and Matthew required big amounts of moral support at the time. There was a lot of shouting, crying, praying...

"I want... I want to go home." Alfred whispered, shifting upwards on the bed a little, feeling a tiny bit of pain in the upper part of his body.  
It must had been the exhaustion of his already weak arms - lately, he played the violin more than usual, more than he took in oxygen, and the evening before was when he finally crossed the line.  
He knew he couldn't go home yet. Being hospitalized was a serious thing, and a part of him knew he would be here for quite the time. There was training for those who were slowly losing the ability to walk, speaking exercises and of course, all the medicine he would receive, perhaps shot straight into his bloodstream from a syringe or through dozens of bad tasting pills.

But he didn't intend on missing that competition.

"I'm sorry, Alfred." Matthew sighed, gently taking his brother's hand. "I never thought it would get this bad."

"For how long do I have to be here?"

"About a month, since the doctors don't exactly know how fast the symptoms can develop, or will you..." The older spoke, his voice trailing off since he was not able to finish that dreadful sentence. It would hurt too much to say it out loud.

Still, Alfred knew how the sentence should have ended.

"A-a month? But I need to attend that competition!" He gave a small protest, sitting up straight on the hospital bed despite the current weakness of his body. This was a serious matter to him, and he gave all he had to fight for it. "Is there any way for me to recover, at least a little bit?" With a shaky tone of voice, he asked the question, but was far too frightened to hear the answer.

"Alfred..." Matthew began, unable to look his little brother in the eyes. Instead, he gazed at the floor, hiding his facial expressions under his long, golden blond hair. "The doctors said you only got a bit more time."

And then everything went quiet for a longer moment.

Even though Alfred knew that already, they both did, hearing it out loud made his stomach twist, heart clench and he felt as if the world had stopped spinning. "...I knew that. It's why I want to play there so badly." He swallowed a lump in his throat before speaking, but his voice still cracked from the overwhelming tension. "If I'm going to die so soon, I want to live with all that I have and all that I am."

Matthew's mind couldn't even properly process the thought of actually losing his younger brother. It had almost happened once, but this time, he was unable to stop it in any way. Perhaps a miracle was the only thing that could somewhat help. He didn't expect to be sitting by Alfred's bed in a hospital, waiting for that heartwrenching moment he wanted to run away from, and it just kept chasing him more.  
"Well... I can hope you'll be able to play... At least one more time." He could barely express those words, they seemed so unreal, and hurt so much.

Alfred just gently nodded, scanning the room around him with his eyes again, hoping to find sort of a distraction from all the thoughts that were burning away his sanity. There was nothing, absolutely nothing. He didn't care about world news on mute. He didn't want to waste his time on drawing and colouring.

He just wanted to play music, was that too much to ask?

As he was about to give Matthew a near silent response, the door to the room was opened wide, a dark haired nurse dressed in a light blue uniform entering with a stack of papers and a box in her arms, and a focused look on her face, almost a frown. "Good morning", she said in a monotone voice, dropping the papers on the light coloured wooden table.

Alfred and Matthew both replied with nothing but a mumble.

"Alright, so, here's the thing. We don't bring any good news, but we don't bring any bad ones either. I'm just here to inform you that your daily dose of medicine is here. Take it with water, not with vodka." She slammed the small white box next to the papers almost angrily - she must have had a terrible morning, or was just an angry person in general.  
Chiara Vargas, her name plate said. She was surely foreign, which was clear from her thick accent as well.

"I got medication?" Alfred curiously asked, hoping to get a little more explanation on what he was about to take and where is that damn water he was supposed to drink it with.

"Yes. It's not going to help much, but at least it'll stabilize you for a few hours or whatever. Just take it." She rolled her eyes, but then stopped in place and looked at the two with a bit of honest sadness in her eyes. "I'm sorry, I'm new at this, and seeing young patients losing their future is painful." With a sigh, she opened the plastic box and took out a couple of pills and a small bottle of water, passing them over to Matthew.

Alfred understood how she felt, but she wasn't the only one in pain around here. Mixed feelings about her already settled deep inside him, but he didn't plan on holding grudges while in the hospital. If he had to waste the rest of his life here, he would try and make good connections with people he was going to meet.  
"It's alright, I understand."

The words losing their future rang in his head over and over again, and for a longer moment, he zoned out just by thinking of it.

Oh, it was true.

As a young boy, he had always dreamed about becoming a professional, known violinist, and he wanted to visit so many countries, explore new places, find new things to try, take risks, perform concerts, and most importantly, make people happy.

And he failed at all of those, even the last one by his own judgements.  
Now, he was stripped away all those magical moments and opportunities that could have come for him one day.

"Alfred, can you hear me?" He was snapped out of thought by Matthew's voice - he didn't hear him speak the first time. "She's gone. Now drink these, they might lessen your pain." Matthew handed him three white pills and held up the bottle of water, and Alfred patiently took them without a single sound of protest. If nothing, painkillers would lower his stiffness and make him sleep for a few more hours once they begin to have effect on his body.

"I want to see Arthur." He finally said, and Matthew knew that sentence was coming one minute or the other.

"Sure." He let out an airy chuckle, instantly getting his phone out of his pocket to dial the Englishman's number.

Hopefully he can visit me here very, very soon. Along with Liz and Gilbert.

Who knows when would be the last time I see those people.

\- - -

Arthur wasn't up yet.

Last night's happenings brought him down with a strange kind of heaviness inside, as if a weight fell on him from above and now kept him on the bed without the ability to move. He didn't know yet that Alfred wasn't home anymore, that everything got far too real, and still didn't hear those awful words about the boy's physical state.

He shifted in a different position on the bed, his eyes chained to the window through which he could see the sky. It was blue, just like he always wanted it to be.   
But now, the colour didn't make him happy, because the fear of losing it was too high to concentrate on its beauty.

Writing wasn't an option anymore. Once his writings were all burned to their ashes, he realized that everything he worked on was suddenly gone, just because of one moment of pure madness. And there was no way to get them back.  
The thousands of words which were supposed to keep Alfred alive - they disappeared, and with them disappeared Arthur's hope that Alfred would survive.

I'm going to be abandoned once again, he miserably thought. Perhaps I was destined to be alone.

I was wrong, I deceived myself and I've been doing that ever since I met him and noticed that something was clearly wrong.

No flame burns forever. Some create a wildfire, and some die out under floods of pain. It all depends on how cruel fate decides to be. We put our lives, our souls and our love in the hands of an invisible force, and expect it to give us everything we want to and everything we need.

But we forget that sometimes it doesn't give, but rather takes.

We can let it play out the way it wants to, or try to stop it with our weak hands and weapons that cannot even measure with its infinite strenght.

Yet after all those words I say in my head, only to myself, I still want to fight it. 

Even though I know I would fail.

The endless string of thoughts was interrupted with ringing coming from the Englishman's bedside table, and for a couple of seconds he didn't want to answer it, and instead turned around to glance at the screen of his phone. The caller's name, Matthew, was shown in big letters at the top, and as soon as he read it, he concluded that the situation must had been very bad by now.  
Sighing heavily, he picked up the phone and finally answered the call, clearing his throat so he wouldn't sound all sleepless, tired, and broken.

"Hi", he mustered out a single word, feeling like a nervous wreck. Just like he was, most of the time.

"Hey, it's Matthew. Did I wake you up by any chance?" An exasperated voice from the other side answered.

"Of course not. Is something wrong? How's Alfred?" He had to immediately ask.

"Alfred is... Well, that's why I'm calling."

Oh, god... This is the one moment when I don't want my gut instincts to be correct.

"He's at the hospital, and he really wants you to visit today. Actually, he wants that right now." The American continued, and at those words, Arthur was sure going severely numb in all parts of his body, a strange sensation of shivers down his spine, and it was the worst feeling that he ever had to experience.

"I'm coming right away." He whispered, hanging up on Matthew and dropping the phone onto the bed, staring at the white wall of his bedroom in shock.

Hang in there, Alfred. Please, please live through this.

For the future, for Matthew...

For me.


	15. Reach out for the Sun

Arthur was running.

He wasted no more time, and didn't want to rely on the Universe any longer. Alfred could be ripped from his arms at any given moment, he just had to be there as quick as he could and didn't hesitate to give all of his strenght only for that single cause, the most important cause in his whole life - seeing Alfred.

He was completely out of breath once he reached the entrance of the giant building in which Alfred was supposedly fighting to stay alive. Hyperventilating as he got in, the Brit ran up to the first person in a white hospital uniform that he spotted working behind a counter. "Please, take me to Alfred Jones, I need to see him right away." He breathily spoke, making eye contact with the man on the other side. He was blonde, a lighter shade than Matthew's and more like his own, and his hair almost reached shoulder length. His eyes were striking blue, and he had a small stubble on his chin that couldn't go unnoticed. The unknown man examined Arthur for a moment, shaking his head and furrowing his eyebrows as if he had just found out something new.

"Are you Arthur Kirkland by any chance?" He finally spoke, with a thick French accent just like Adrienne's.

"Y-yes, how did you know?"

"I'm Adrienne's brother. Francis Bonnefoy."

"I do not care who you are, or how you know me, just take me to Alfred! Right now!" Arthur slammed his fist onto the wooden drop counter out of pure rage and impatience, and the Frenchman just stared at him wide eyed for a second before looking up the American's room number on his computer, muttering something under his breath that only he could hear.

"Very well, then." He replied to the Brit.

"I'm sorry for bursting out like that, I'm so sorry... I'm just--"

"I understand. I'd be lost, too, in such a horrible situation." 

Francis didn't hold grudges. He rarely got angry, and if he did, it was for very valid reasons, in arguments he most likely always won. Just like his sister, he was highly empathetic, understood what people were going through, especially because they both worked at a place in which people's lives depended on a single string that could easily break and leave families in distress for years. All the struggle on their faces, the tears they spilled when bad news needed to be said, the confused children and sorrowful parents, people who had so much to live their life for, but some of them just didn't get to live it whole.

After scribbling it down with a badly working pen, he handed Arthur a small paper with Alfred's room number on it, nodding at him with lips pursed together. 

"Room 209, fourth floor and then to the right. Neurology unit." 

"Thank you so, so much."

"Stay strong for him, Arthur. He needs that."

Gripping the piece of paper tightly, Arthur sighed and turned away from the Frenchman, taking that advice to the heart. 

He headed towards the elevator, clicking the button next to it and waiting for it to come down to the ground floor. Once the shiny, silver door finally opened, he tried his best not to flinch at the sight - a nurse quickly wheeling an unconscious patient in a portable bed, possibly to the emergency section judging by the look on her face which clearly stated that things were falling apart too fast for her to catch them before everything broke down to the ground.  
The door closed and carried him up to the fourth floor, and during the ride he repeatedly whispered Francis' word to himself.

"I must stay strong for him."

And again.

It was difficult not to cry, and focusing on the rational part of his brain was extremely exhausting, but currently that was what he had to do, whether he wanted it or not.

His silent monologue to himself was interrupted by an automatically generated voice reciting the floor number out loud, and the next thing he knew was that he found himself in a frightening hallway with three ways to go. To the right, he remembered, and ran off to find the desired room. It was such a long, excruciating process, and Alfred was there waiting for him...   
His eyes scanned the room numbers above each door before he finally found the one he was looking for. The number 209 stood above the entrance, obviously handwritten with a thick layer of black paint and a bit of artistic touch on the side.

Without hesitation, he opened the door in a gentle movement, stepping in with caution - he worried about what he would see, in what state Alfred was going to be right there in front of him.

"Alfred." At first, he said nothing but the name, standing at the entrance. Matthew turned around knowing it must had been the Brit visiting, and the younger American immediately glanced at him with a loving want deep inside his blue eyes which were once so light and energetic, but now blurry and almost completely empty. "I am so glad you're alive." He ran up to the bed, sitting himself on a tiny chair next to where Matthew was sitting.

Seeing Alfred hooked to a tube through an injection, pale-skinned and unable to properly move just broke him. It wasn't supposed to be like this, it was so unfair - Alfred was supposed to be the one to teach him how to live, to save him from his loneliness and despair, and they should have explored every corner of the universe together! Why did it their their hope have to be replaced with... This?

"I'll leave you to it." Matthew let out a near inaudible chuckle. "I need some sleep, Alfred, I've been here all night long. I will come and visit again later, is that alright with you?"

"Of course, Matt... Thank you for staying with me."

"That's what family is for." He said, getting up from the chair and giving Arthur a light pat on the shoulder before exiting the hospital room, closing the door behind him. "See you later."

And then there was silence.

For a minute or two, Arthur only examined his surroundings, noticing even the smallest details about Alfred and his well - being. Things weren't looking so great at the moment. The American seemed to barely keep himself steady in a sitting position. Behind his glasses, he could see pain in those blue eyes - no matter how hard he would try to prove those around him that he was okay, things just got worse, to the point where he required professional help, and he couldn't hide it any longer.

"I missed you." Alfred was the first one to break the stillness. "I know what you'll say, we saw each other yesterday, but... I'm really glad you're here now." He gently smiled and averted his gaze to the ground as he felt a light blush warm his normally pale cheeks.

"Alfred, what is it that brought you to this hospital bed?" Arthur ignored his remark, making the other slightly hurt, but on the other hand, he understood the Brit's concern. 

"It's complicated, honestly... Apparently it's rare, something genetic", Alfred shook his head, trying to recall the information that he didn't even properly listen to. "I don't know, I wasn't paying much attention. All I know is that it hurts... A lot." He sighed, chuckling ever so slightly at his own childishness. "To think that all this time, I thought I was just a really clumsy kid. It's weird, I never thought I'd end up here. I always thought seeing myself in this position was nothing but an irrational, intrusive thought. But hey, it turned into reality."

Arthur wanted to ask a very important question, even though he most probably knew the answer already, but he didn't know how much it would hurt Alfred to answer it. Still, he took that risk , he could work for his own selfishness once or twice. He simply needed to know. "Are you able to keep going despite the struggle?"

And Alfred just bitterly laughed, the laughter followed by a coughing fit, and he clutched his chest from the sudden pain. It wasn't even in his lungs, it felt like being stabbed in the heart multiple times and he didn't know how else to chase it away except with coughs. Yet it didn't help. "Oh, Arthur, dear..." He glanced at his lover. "Remember what I told you... Sooner or later, the fire dies down."

"Then... Then make it later! You're strong, Alfred, you can get through this, I know you can!"

"I've stopped trying already." The younger laid back onto the clean, white pillow and inhaled its powerful scent, closing his eyes. "I've stopped trying long ago, I just didn't want to tell anyone."

"Please, don't say that." Arthur was almost shaking as he gently took Alfred's hand into his, careful not to hurt him in any way. "Maybe a chance still exists."

"Even if it existed, I wouldn't take it. All it could give me is a little more time, and I'd probably spend it in a wheelchair or something. It doesn't matter, Arthur. I want to live the time I have left, and I want to live it well." 

Arthur didn't want to admit it, but Alfred was right. Giving him more time would only give him more exertion, and he wouldn't live it to the limits like he wanted to. It was just him and his selfishness, his constant fear of abandonment, that didn't want Alfred to go yet. He wanted to wake up and see the blue skies every morning, he wanted to give Alfred a thousand more hugs, and a million kisses. He wanted to take him to every capital city, take billions of photographs, and keep them framed on the wall as a collection of all the places they'd gone to together. And to know it was never going to happen... It hurt too much to bear.

"That's why I want to take part in that competition." Alfred kept speaking, and Arthur listened, clinging onto every word as if it was the last thing he'd ever hear. "I need to play the violin at least one more time. Otherwise I'd go crazy! And you don't want me in my crazy form, you know that. So what's the best thing I can do in my last month of living? That's right, practise Chopin."

"You're always crazy... You're an absolute fool, that's what you are..." Arthur whispered, shaking his head at the boy's silliness, but he couldn't hide the small smile forming in the corner of his lips.

Even in the darkest moments, he was the one to make the others laugh. Despite the pain, the constant fight, the struggle he went through, he hated seeing the ones in love in distress. So without hesitation, he made jokes about himself and his terrible health state - both physical and mental. "You're crazier." He smirked.

"No, you are!" The Brit protested.

"Hey, Arthur", the American breathily spoke. "Kiss me."

And how on Earth could Arthur say no to that? 

Getting up from the chair immediately, still holding Alfred's hand in the most tender way possible, he bent down and connected their lips in a swift movement, the younger instantly kissing back. It wasn't a rough kiss. It was delicate, loving, but not weak. The feeling of Arthur's lips against his made Alfred melt, that's just how special the feeling was.   
He heard nothing but the sound of their breathing, and he was engulfed by the scent of Arthur, his Arthur, the one he loved the most.  
He closed his eyes to enjoy it to the fullest.  
He tasted tea and sweetness.  
He felt only love.

Arthur enjoyed it all the same, but to him, it was more bitter - sweet, knowing that they wouldn't share many more of them and that he'd spend the rest of his life remembering how it felt the last time they kissed.

"Will you keep writing about me, Arthur?" Alfred asked once they gently pulled away, the Brit sitting back down, almost incapable of snapping out of trance.

"Stop talking like you're leaving me right now!" Artur replied urgently, as the question was unexpected and he didn't know how to properly explain to him that all the writings were gone. 

"Relax, Arthur... I'm still here."

"I know you are, you idiot. Just... Don't make it seem like this is our last kiss. It's not, alright?"

"It better not be." Alfred responded, attempting to move his legs but only managing to do it a little, and he flinched from the tingly pain that somehow appeared in his shoulders, even though he didn't move the upper part of his body by a single millimeter. Yesterday, he could walk almost properly, but today, there was no way he could get up at all. He was near being fully paralyzed, his nervous system completely distorted and apparently not knowing its functions.

Arthur noticed the troubled facial expression on the younger, but did not say a word about it. 

"Arthur." He heard his name called, and he made eye contact with the American straight away. "Listen to me, I need you to promise something."

"I'm listening."

Taking a deep breath first, Alfred thought a bit before speaking. "Once I'm gone, I don't want you to suffer. I want you to live a life full of happiness, without any sorrow. Don't spend too much time grieving, because that will get you nowhere. I know that first hand. If you feel bad, write it down, cope with it in healthy ways, don't follow the road I've walked. I'm the worst person to teach you how to live, Arthur. But there's one good advice that I gave you. Start a new chapter of your book. And instead of making that chapter about someone who's not here anymore and how much you miss him, write about how nice the day is, or how you finally bought that cute notebook that you've had your eye on for a while. Not even the sky is your limit. Reach out for the sun, take in its warmth and share it with others... Don't stay at home on weekends. I know that Matthew, Adrienne, Liz and Gilbert would love to spend time with you. Please, don't make the same mistakes I did. Don't hurt yourself. Don't cling to the past. Don't cry about how the impossible can't become possible. Just dream about a pleasant future. And most importantly, learn to love the colour grey just as much as you loved blue while it was here. All colours are beautiful, aren't they? Chromatic and achromatic, warm and cold, all of them are beautiful. It's just a matter of perspective. You just have to learn to love them. Promise... Promise you'll do that for me?"

"I promise." Arthur whispered, intertwining their fingers and leaning in to quickly kiss him on the cheek. "That was really deep, Alfred. You're so young, but already possess such wisdom."

"Yeah, I can be like that sometimes." Alfred shyly smiled. "Make sure you write all that down for the new generations, huh?" He chuckled as if it was a joke, but Arthur already stored all those words deep within to share them with others.

Perhaps he had already reached out for the sun. Once he met Alfred, he felt a flash of warmth, and the next thing he knew was a young man smiling at him, hugging him, kissing him... Telling him he loved him, how he was worth it, giving him hope, positivity and optimism that he could never feel when alone.

"I'll share it with the world."


	16. Somebody Catch My Breath

A few weeks had passed since Alfred first woke up in the hospital, and during those days, a lot of things had happened - there were new experiences, loving moments, stories told, researches made... 

Arthur and Matthew spent most of their time visiting Alfred's room, giving him everything he needed and even more, since they set it to themselves that they were going to be the ones helping him and keeping him alive, if the doctors couldn't do anything more.

"Arthur, give me some water, please", the American would say, and Arthur would immediately run over to the table and pass over the glass to him, even hold it up so the other could drink it without a problem.

"Tell me a story." He'd either improvise, or read it from a book, but it sounded good either way, and Alfred adored how he spoke - his accent, his voice, and absolutely everything about him.

"I'm kind of hungry, is there anything to eat?" 

And he'd instantly go to the closest store to get him anything he wanted. It didn't feel like an order, nor did it seem exhausting... He wanted to do it. He would do anything to get him a thousand more glasses of water and plates of his favourite food, as long as he was there, alive, and somewhat happy. 

The doctors said he required a lot more testing, so he was dragged around to an ECG scan, an ultrasound, anything, just to make sure they diagnosed him right, that he was getting the right dose of medication - which didn't even help, but just made him feel a tiny bit nauseous and released the pain slightly in the upper part of his body. They also made him do some strange walking exercises, but he'd usually fall down while doing them, which made him extremely agitated each time. Adrienne, being the best at the cardiology unit, lead the whole thing, getting a little bit mad during the process and calling every doctor and nurse at neurology a useless idiot, but no one took it against her. They were all equally stressed with work, and understood too well how it felt when the patient was family or a close friend.

Elizabeta and Gilbert visited a couple of times, each time bringing a box of homemade cookies for the American brothers and Arthur, too. The Hungarian girl regularly practised piano, thinking how with some miracle from above, she and Alfred would be able to perform at the competition, even if he couldn't currently practise.

Right now, Alfred was half asleep in his hospital room, listening to raindrops falling on the windowsill and the powerful sound of wind growing stronger with each second, making it seem as if it wanted to tear down the walls of the building to show off its strength to those beneath it under its control. A storm was coming, that was sure.   
He was lying down with his eyes closed, the resonating noise of the heart rate monitor right next to his ear, preventing him from getting any decent sleep with that annoying beep. Though, he didn't really care. This was a position to calm down and put some thoughts in place, organize his mind at least a tiny bit.  
Arthur was at home. With this kind of haunting weather, there was no way he could have walked to the hospital. And Alfred was fine with that. Some alone time was certainly needed, even to him.

Matthew and Adrienne were discussing things in the hallway which lead to the cafeteria, since they both required some time together and some coffee after all the hassle with work lately.

"I need to tell you something really important." She opened the door of the cafeteria which was empty at the moment, closing it once they both got in. With two clicks on the coffee machine, their drinks were done in less than a minute, and they sat down on the chairs next to the big glass door that lead to the terrace.

"Yeah, what is it?" He made himself comfortable next to her, warming his hands with the coffee mug and taking a sip of the drink.

"Well... It's about Alfred."

"...Oh." After that sentence, he couldn't help but feel immediate worry. He looked at her with apprehension, noticing how her facial expression clearly said that she wasn't bringing any good news.

"We did everything we could in the last three weeks. A bunch of scanning, rethinking, multiple blood tests even, but it is what it is... The diagnosis didn't change, and the illness is progressing too quickly for us to stop it. I-it's so weird... It was supposed to start in early childhood and hit him mostly in the middle of his teenage years, but instead it kept itself mostly silent and burst out all at once. I don't understand, none of us do. I'm so, so sorry..." She wasn't even able to make eye contact with him, and instead held his hand while looking down, that just showed how painful it was to deliver such news. "It's fortunate that he didn't develop full paralysis in his arms yet. But walking is out of question by now."

"There's really no way to slow its pace?" Matthew asked almost inaudibly, his voice weak and tired, worn out like he himself was, too.

"I'm afraid not, not at this point..." She sighed, leaning against his shoulder in comfort, still holding the drink in her left hand. "I wish I could have brought you good news instead. This just hurts us both. And it's even harder to stay professional in such a situation, since I've considered Alfred a close friend ever since we met."

"I understand that, but... How do I even react to such a thing? He's my little brother, and I'm going to lose him. I-it just feels so weird, it's not sadness, it's just emptiness. Such emptiness I have only felt once in my life, when I found out what happened to our mother."

"Only this time, you will have me by your side." Adrienne gently embraced him and gave him a small kiss on the cheek. 

"You're right, I will. And I am eternally grateful for that."

Matthew felt as if his entire life had gone silent in the last three weeks. Usually, there would be a lot of talking at home, along with fighting over the remote control, watching television together, quarreling, singing, and of course, Alfred playing the violin from morning to evening. Sometimes even throughout the night. But lately, it had all gone grey once the sound disappeared, the string instrument neatly packed in the corner of the younger American's room with no one to play it for days. And Matthew hated it. He despised the silence, and missed all the noise. And knowing he would never have it back made it three times as painful for him.

"Wait... Matt, isn't tomorrow a special date? Or maybe I'm tricking myself?" Adrienne suddenly broke his chain of thought, raising an eyebrow at something her mind just decided to remind her of.

"Uh, I'm pretty sure our anniversary is in April, Alfred's birthday is in July... No, no special date. Just the 25th of October." Matthew took the time to think it over, but couldn't recall anything significant to worry about.

"The violin competition! It's tomorrow!" She exclaimed loudly, almost spilling her coffee all over him if it wasn't for her quick reflex.

"Oh, god..." The American sighed, sinking back into his chair. "I was hoping for something that'd get my mind off everything. But alright, that works too. Let's sink deeper into grief, why not?" He sounded sarcastic and bitter for a second, covering his face with his hands and letting out a long exhale. "Alfred knows that he can't go, right?"

"Elizabeta is actually still preparing for it, and she believes that Alfred doesn't need any practice to take part in it, so I think they're both hoping for it." She frowned, taking a big gulp of coffee right after saying the words. The warm drink made her feel so much more comfortable on this dreadful autumn day.

"What?! B-but... He can barely move! How can she even think that we'd let him go?"

"Matthew, calm, it's alright."

"No, it's not! She's been feeding him with false hope, and tomorrow he's going to be so disappointed. He wanted to go because he knows that it would be his last performance ever!" He stood up from the chair, slamming the mug onto the cafeteria table, a few drops of the drink making their way down the sides of the white coloured item.

"Calm down! Listen, I actually... I thought of letting them perform tomorrow. After all, it will be his last time, and he doesn't have months to live, you know. Perhaps he'll get really exhausted, but it's worth it because he will love every second of it." She took him by both hands, bringing them closer together so their faces were only a couple of inches away, looking him straight in the eyes.

"Adrienne, we have to be rational! He's going to pass out or something, what if it happens in the middle of the performance?! And how the hell do you think he will stand while playing?" Anger got the best of him at last, and every bit of tension and furiosity he held inside just exploded right there. He wasn't able to stop it. It was all too much to bear, and he was far too tense to even care at the moment. 

She wasn't the one to get angry, though. Working at the hospital made her immune to others' outbursts - she faced so many irritated parents, agitated family members and even patients who had something against their doctors. Now, she knew how to fight back without shouting.

"Matthew, listen to me." She said in a low tone of voice. "When Alfred wakes up tomorrow, he will know what date it is, and he will beg for us to let him play. He doesn't have to stand, that's what wheelchairs are for. And if he does pass out in the middle of the performance, know that he gave it all he had, he gave his life for the music. I've known him for a while as well, and I know he would want that. To live for music, and to die for music. If that's not Alfred Jones, then I don't know what is." 

Every single word she said was on point.  
He wasn't able to argument back. She was right - Alfred would pour his soul into his music, even if that meant giving it his last breath. 

"But... Okay, fine", Matthew whispered, almost shaking from the anger that took him over completely. "I'm sorry for yelling, I don't know what got into me." He didn't hesitate to hug her, and she immediately returned the gentle embrace with a small smile forming on her face.

"It's fine." She chuckled ever so slightly. "Do you understand why I won't stop him from playing now?"

"Yes. And I'll support it the best I can." The American replied.

"Really?"

"I want to hear him play one more time."

\- - - 

In a certain hospital room, a young American boy was lying down on the bed, staring at the ceiling aimlessly and softly humming a familiar tune along with the gentle sound of the radio from the corner of the room. He got it about a week ago, when he craved music to the point of breaking into tears, and Arthur thought that the best idea would be to give him something to listen on since he couldn't play himself. And he was right.

Alfred had too much on his mind, but a specific thought was taking away a lot of his remaining energy.

The violin competition.

He knew very well that tomorrow was the date of the final round, the category for those who were eighteen and up, which meant he and Elizabeta had to perform. And he was utterly petrified - three weeks without practising, he felt as if he had lost all of his previous skills!   
Alongside that, sometimes his arms hurt like hell when he tried to move them, and there were a few moments in which he wasn't able to move them at all. Though, most of the time he could, and that was what mattered to him the most. It was only the lower part of his body that already completely gave up on functioning.

The thing that frightened him the most was his constant lack of breath, something he hadn't experienced so much earlier like he did now. Troubles with breathing were the most annoying part of this for him.   
Screw walking, he thought, getting out of bed was never his thing anyway. Though he couldn't help but feel slightly lost once he realized he lost the ability to walk. 

"I'm a goner", he sang along to the song playing from the speakers, "somebody catch my breath". 

Oh, if only somebody could help him catch his, since he wasn't quite good at it lately.

But there was a specific lyric that made him shiver at how much he could connect to it, and he was suddenly aware of everything that was happening.

"Though I'm weak  
Beaten down  
I'll slip away  
Into the sound "

Because that was everything that mattered to him despite the situation he was in. To connect with the music, to feel the sound deep within... And he couldn't wait for tomorrow. He hoped that the music would reach Arthur, and Matthew, everyone he had ever loved, those who were there and those who were long gone.

With music he lived, and with music he would die.

There was no other way.


	17. There Is Always Hope

The next morning

"Alfred, wake up!" 

A familiar voice rang through the clear white hospital room, and the person being called needed a couple of seconds to respond. He groaned tiredly and shifted around in the bed a bit before finally opening his eyes with only a slight amount of difficulty, blinking and finding himself staring at the face of an excited brown haired girl who seemed to be in a hurry for something.

"Uh... G'morning." Alfred mumbled in confusion, still not completely conscious and aware of his surroundings since he wasn't quite a morning person anyway, and with extra exhaustion on top of that, he could barely figure out who was standing above him. 

"Come on, we gotta get ready soon! I'll help you, don't worry. I can't just let you try and get up by yourself." The girl chuckled ever so slightly, almost jumping from excitement. "Also, it's nice you finally got some decent sleep. You will need that energy for today."

For another longer moment, Alfred was utterly perplexed about the situation, but then it hit him.

Today, right, that was today. He and Elizabeta. Piano and violin. What more was there to be said?

"I didn't practise..." He only managed to mutter out, exhaling loudly. "I'll be terrible."

"Bullshit. You know the piece by heart, and y'know, the hospital is letting you go, so why miss the opportunity? I thought you wanted to go! We've been discussing this for weeks, every time I came to visit you. What changed your mind all of the sudden?" Elizabeta frowned in concern, examining the boy top to bottom and noticing what a terrible state he was in. He had lost so much weight throughout the month, his skin had gone pale, and on top of all, he couldn't get out of bed without someone's help. Losing the ability to walk meant he was going to need extra assistance in everything he wanted to do, which made him so, so mad. At the last performance, he wanted to stand, to experience it fully, but he had to sit instead. Though at the end of the day, all that mattered was music.

"I do want to go. I'm just scared I won't be able to... You know. Play." He coughed slightly, clearing his voice before he continued to speak. "I'm very weak, and I don't like that."

Before Elizabeta could come up with anything to say as a response, the door of the hospital room opened, and with a grand entrance Matthew and Adrienne stepped in, both dressed for the occasion. Well, kind of. 

"We're ready for the music!" Matthew exclaimed loudly, deeply hoping that the competition would go well and that nothing would go wrong during their perfomance.

He was wearing a navy blue suit and trousers in the same colour, a white shirt underneath and a black-and-blue striped tie. Adrienne had a black dress on, and her hair was put in place with the fanciest looking ponytail that Alfred had ever laid his eyes on. And Elizabeta wasn't far from looking that elegant, except she let her hair fly around as she usually did, only her signature flower holding up the fringe. She had her favourite outfit on - a simple olive green hoodie with a black skirt and combat boots. For the competition, she didn't want to go too flashy, but rather put on something she felt comfortable in. 

And Alfred?

He suddenly felt so embarrassed in his white hospital gown, and immediately wanted to change what he was wearing. "Uh... You all look great." A small smile appeared on his face, but it soon went away with the realization that he couldn't be like them anymore, that he couldn't dance, run, jump, take long afternoon walks, or get dressed easily like they could. And it was just because of something strange that humanity hasn't learned to cure yet.

"Oh, I know I look amazing", Adrienne smirked, "but you're the star of the scene. Now let me help you get ready."

"No, I will do that. It's probably difficult walking in that long ass dress, isn't it?" Elizabeta jumped in with an offer to help, and the French girl had no arguments against it. Truth be told, everyhting that the Hungarian said was true. "Also, where the hell is Gilbert? He went to get drinks from the coffee machine a century ago."

"I bet he saw someone being sad and just had to comfort them." Adrienne replied.

"Will Arthur come to the concert, too?" Alfred shyly asked, feeling really uncomfortable all of the sudden as Elizabeta helped him up - his legs didn't work like they used to before, and as soon as his feet touched the floor again after god knows how long, he wasn't able to keep standing and was close to falling forward. He would have fallen, if Elizabeta wasn't there to catch him right before. 

"Yes, of course he will, but he said he'll come after he gets something from the supermarket." She replied softly. "Easy there, you're falling."

"Thanks for the input, Sherlock." Alfred rolled his eyes, but he didn't know how to respond at the news that Arthur would be coming as well. For the Brit, he needed to put on the best possible show, no matter how painful. Not only did Arthur have to feel the music, the music had to feel him.

"Oh, shut up, Alfred." Liz teasingly said. "Are you able to walk over to the other side of the room to that wheelchair, at least?" She held him tightly, speaking a bit more quietly than she usually did. 

"...I don't think so."

"Alright then, we can work with that. Matthew, bring that thing over here, Alfred's in a worse state than Slavic marching bands. Except Russian ones. Damn, those Russians were always good." 

Alfred couldn't help but lightly laugh at that, but once he was forced to be wheelchair - bound, the laughter disappeared once again and was replaced by sorrow. 

"This feels really weird." He commented in a whisper, as Elizabeta moved him around in the seat.

"I know it does, but you will get used to it after a while."

The group soon exited the hospital room all ready and set for the competition, and in the hallways they saw Gilbert carrying the case with Alfred's violin, chatting with some patients in the waiting seats. The Hungarian girl could only roll her eyes lovingly and drag him away before he got lost in the conversation too much.

"The concert hall is only ten minutes away if we go on foot." She commented once they left the hospital. "And the competition starts in half an hour. We got so much time on our hands, and here I was thinking we would be late."

"Do you think they will even let me perform like... Well, like this?" Alfred dared to ask, feeling awful about the looks of pity on the faces of those passing by. He wished to just be himself again, happy, enthusiastic and jumpy, but those days were officially over for him. All that he had was his music, but playing today would come with a big price.

"I'm sure they will. All that matters to them is that you can play, not whether you're sitting or standing." Matthew shrugged with a nod.

No matter how carefree they seemed, though, none of them were calm whatsoever. There were thousands of damaging thoughts in each of their minds, focusing on the worst things that could happen even if the rational parts of them said they wouldn't happen, and the hopeful parts comforted them and gave them strength to go on.  
Elizabeta was scared that they wouldn't be able to pull off the entire performance.  
Matthew couldn't comprehend that it would be the last time he'd ever hear his younger brother play.  
Adrienne had an entire emergency plan in her head in case something went wrong with Alfred in the middle of the show.  
Gilbert hoped that when they arrived to the concert hall, there would be another vending machine for more drinks.  
And Alfred had never felt such fear before. He was fully aware of everything that could go on, and he was constantly trying his best to mentally prepare himself for the greatest exhaustion of his life, which could be followed by something he'd learned to dread the most.

Once they arrived at their destination, Elizabeta took Alfred's violin case from Gilbert's hands and the two of them went backstage to the room with all the other contestants, while the others made themselves comfortable in the audience seating, right in the middle of the fourth row of crimson coloured chairs. People were already slowly gathering, though the jury's table was still completely empty - only their name plates stood there, lonely, but the people were missing. Two people were fixing up the stage, adjusting the piano and the sheet music holder in case the violinist needed one. 

Arthur still wasn't there.

"All these people practised for hours and hours a day. We are probably the most unprepared duo. You, who couldn't play for weeks because of your broken arm, and me, who didn't touch the violin in the past three weeks and forgot how half of the piece sounds. And we never even had the opportunity to play it together." Alfred commented as they looked around the room full of talented musicians in fancy outfits tuning their instruments and doing the last bits of practice on their solo parts. A blonde haired girl in a beautiful, long white dress was playing her piece in the slowest possible tempo to warm up, a dark brown haired boy in a really funny looking green suit had fun adding pizzicatto onto the Hungarian dance even if the piece didn't require such technique, everyone was eager to go on stage and perform the best they could. The nervousness and tension in the room were high, and Alfred felt extremely anxious around all those people.

Elizabeta knelt down next to him, spotting the stress in his eyes, and placed a hand on his shoulder as a sign of comfort. "Don't worry. Most of these people are extremely persistent, but they probably don't have a social life at all", she teased, but she herself knew how it felt to stay at home for days playing one single part of a classical piece several thousand times until she wanted to rip her hair out. "And we're going to do great anyway. We don't need that kind of practice!" Her eyes were sparkling with confidence, but Alfred's weren't the same.  
The blue just wasn't as strong as it used to be, it was fading away along with his entire being. 

"I need to... I need to do something before the show." The American whispered over to the girl. "Do you have a pen, by any chance?"

She furrowed her eyebrows in confusion for a second, tilting her head to the right. "A pen? Yeah, actually, I always carry one in case I need to sign something. But don't waste your energy on writing, you won't be able to play the violin then."

"Can you write down what I say for me?" He asked with a bit of shyness. "I have my music sheets in the violin case. Just write it on the back, since I won't need those anymore."

"Sure, I'll do it, but we only have, like, fifteen minutes before the show starts."

"We're performing fifth, Liz, we got time over our heads. You forgot that."

"Oh, true. Okay, let's write that shit down, shall we?" She chuckled, taking out a couple of papers from the music sheets of La Campanella, the piece they planned to perform tonight. Clicking on the pen she listened to each word Alfred was saying, writing every single one in the neatest handwriting she could achieve. It was long, and she was surprised at the words that he spoke in such a gentle tone - it almost brought her to tears. Though, she promised she'd do it for him, so she kept writing and writing, spending a paper and a half on the entire thing. 

It took them fifteen minutes to finish it, just in the time the concert started. Elizabeta folded the papers, putting them in the violin case before closing it and putting it aside, handing the instrument and the bow to Alfred. The pre-performance tension was building up in them with minutes passing by. Alfred clumsily held the bow, gliding it over the strings in fatigued movements, since he didn't want to waste all his remaining energy before their turn to perform. Every now and then, he would take a shaky breath which Elizabeta noticed, and she gave him words of reassurance each time.

"Everything will be alright. Just breathe, and you will be fine. Concentrate only on the music, as if it's the only thing that exists. There's only the violin, and the piano. Just the magic of sound."

"Just the magic of sound." Alfred repeated in a whisper, giving her a glance of both sadness and hope. 

There was always hope.

\- - - 

Arthur was running to the concert hall with all the strength he possessed, carrying a bouquet of flowers meant for Alfred in his right hand. He was at a loss for breath halfway to the desired destination, glancing at the clock on his phone every six seconds and realizing that the competition already started - he was late by ten minutes, and Alfred and Elizabeta were going to perform very soon.

He didn't plan on missing that very performance.

Once he arrived at the concert hall, he snuck into the audience seating, apologizing to people who were already sitting there and calmly listening to the musicians currently playing, pushing through so he could sit next to the group - luckily, they saved a seat for him knowing that he was most probably just late and didn't intend on going home.

"I wonder who the flowers are for", Adrienne jokingly asked, speaking as quietly as humanly possible so she wouldn't disturb both the performance and the audience.

Arthur just gave an awkward smile, focusing his look on the stage rather than the space around him. 

Soon, he thought to himself. Soon, I'll see him play for the last time.

And it's going to be the most heartbreaking thing I've ever seen.

A bitter sweet ending, that's what I always told myself, that's what the readers want to see.

But they don't know what it's like to experience it first hand.

Such pain they cannot even feel while reading out thousands of pages of writing.

He got lost in thought soon enough, not even noticing the clapping in between performances, eyes closed and connecting his thoughts to the music, until he was snapped out of it by a whisper from the person next to him.

"They are about to perform." Matthew smiled gently, and Arthur immediately averted his gaze to the stage, where Elizabeta was fixing up her skirt as she sat down by the piano, and Alfred was sitting in the wheelchair, not dressed for the occasion like everyone else - weak, beaten down, pale in the face, holding his violin up shakily as he prepared to play the first tone.

And so it begins.


	18. Paganini, La Campanella

So he played.

With his eyes closed, Alfred played the first note, and Elizabeta caught right up on the piano, no hesitation. They found their rhythm already at the start, and it took them less than thirty seconds to get completely into the music. La Campanella echoed through the concert hall, each sound possessing a different emotion, all of Alfred's deepest feelings hidden within the energetic piece.

Arthur listened carefully, clinging onto every note, wanting it to never end. Oh, if only it was possible.  
If only Alfred's illness was nothing but a terrible nightmare, an illusion, a hallucination coming from the mind of an unstable writer. But, it wasn't. It was real, and now it was in the music.  
He could sense it all around him, as the melody playfully, yet sorrowfully flew through the arena. And he didn't understand how Alfred was able to perform each beat of the piece so perfectly despite the pain, despite the weakness, the exhaustion... 

The music took him to a different dimension. For Arthur, the colour blue was never as strong and clear in his mind as it was when it mixed with the melancholic sound. For Alfred, imagining and feeling the mystery of the colour green had never brought him so much sadness. 

This was the last time he would be able to feel it in such force.

Elizabeta gave the American a few sideways glances as she played, but most of the time kept her focus on the keys. She hit every key vigorously, with as much energy as she had in her. Not for victory, not for the meaningless, petty points that the jury might give them, but for life.   
For the Universe, its kindness and cruelty, for Alfred and Arthur and their infinite love, for Gilbert and his craziness, for Matthew and Adrienne... 

I must hold it out, Alfred thought to himself, gritting his teeth and shutting his eyes tight as he felt a wave of panic wash over him, tingly pain spreading throughout his body. 

The melody was reaching its peak.

More, more, I cannot end here! Give me strength to go on, please! Anything, just to finish it!

It has to reach Arthur, it just has to... Please, please, hold on... Forget about the pain. There's only music, pain does not exist in this world, it shouldn't exist, it never has existed...

The colours of the music soon spread all through the room, from the palest shade of yellow to the brightest green, from the most heavyhearted blue to the angriest red... Everything he had ever felt, his entire life - all the despair, each scar left on his broken soul, and each happy moment that he gracelessly let slip by.

Arthur felt every single one of them, and Alfred was overwhelmed. As if his life was suddenly nearing its end, he remembered his childhood, how he laughed with Matthew and their parents, walked down the streets of Pennsylvania and strolled through the parks that used to be fully grey, but he loved them nevertheless. He thought of the first time he ever played the violin, and the first time he received the instrument as a present, the surprised expression on his brother's face when he heard the sound of it. He recalled everything, even the tremendously difficult pain of losing his mother, and the attempt at taking his own life, every detail rang through his head as the melody kept flowing through him as much as it did through the whole concert hall.   
He looked back at the moment his clumsiness gave him love, the moment in which he was never before so thankful he was bad at holding things. Now, that same clumsiness is going to take love away from Arthur just as forcefully as it brought them together.

It hurts, it all hurts far too much... Did it reach him yet? 

I swear, I'll play it until the last note, I swear I won't disappoint.

This is for everyone that I love. Matthew, who was there for me since the start, my only brother and the person who knows me better than anybody, Elizabeta, who I practically just met, but already learnt so much about her deepest self, Gilbert, the man with the craziest eyes and the most childish heart, Adrienne, the brightest girl with the fanciest dress and the most seductive eyes...

And Arthur.

My love, my soulmate, my everything...   
I love you, I love you...

I love you!

With his last breath, he finished the piece, and Elizabeta almost jumped out of her chair, feeling an adrenaline rush like never before.

It was over. The last note, it left everyone paralyzed on a longer moment, until the audience finally snapped out of trance. They stood up, giving the loudest applause that anyone had ever heard - and it was the first time Alfred and Elizabeta had gotten a standing ovation.

A well deserved one, at that point.

Even the jury was out of their minds, the emotions that the two produced through the music were flooding the entire room. It's easy to learn a piece, but perform it with such a passion, that's a whole different story. And they managed to write that story in the best possible way.  
Elizabeta stood up from the piano, approaching Alfred and taking a bow, which the American wasn't able to do, but he was awestruck at the situation anyway, teary eyed and worn out to the core. 

"We did it, Alfred", the girl whispered to him, and he only looked at her, giving a shaky smile as a response. "You did it." She continued, taking one more bow before they made their way first backstage to get Alfred's violin case and put the instrument back in, then out of the concert hall where they were supposed to wait for the rest of their group to join them.

Arthur didn't want to believe that it was over already. He wanted it to last longer, at least one more minute... He'd give anything to hear it again, and again. Along with the rest of the audience, he applauded energetically, but he was close to breaking down and falling to his knees, so he instinctively held onto Matthew so it wouldn't happen. And the older American knew what was wrong, embracing the Englishman into a tight hug before the four of them walked over to the space in front of the giant building.

"Alfred, Elizabeta... That was absolutely incredible." Matthew was the first one to speak up, while Adrienne just jumped onto the Hungarian to give her a big hug as a way of complimenting her about the performance. "I'm so proud of you, Alfred." He said to his brother, taking him by the hand and looking him straight in the eyes.

Arthur approached him with a shy smile, wordlessly handing him the bouquet of flowers which the other couldn't hold, and instead placed on his lap.

"Are we going back to the hospital?" Alfred didn't thank him, although he was eternally grateful, and he was close to losing energy, so the words he spoke were merely a mumble. His arms hurt incredibly, to the point of tears which he tried his best to hide, yet failed anyway.

"You're not feeling well, I can sense it... Yeah, we're going back. Just hold on." Matthew sighed tiredly, but still kept a soft smile in the corner of his lips. 

"I'm tired." The younger said quietly.

"I know you are. You'll get some sleep soon, alright?"

The group congratulated the two for another minute, and Elizabeta gave them the news that the results should be out in mostly three hours, or even earlier, since there weren't many contestants in their category. Right after that, they headed back towards the hospital on Matthew's demand, since he became a mediator at times when Alfred failed to speak properly.

Making their way back, the four of them got easily lost in conversation, while Arthur and Alfred were a bit distanced, both thinking rather than talking. If anything, the teary eyed Englishman asked Alfred how he felt, to which he responded by shaking his head in a way of saying he was feeling really bad.  
Both mentally and physically exhausted, he was sure he could fall asleep and never wake up again.

"I understand." Arthur replied as he took a deep breath. "I know you'd rather not converse at the moment, so I'll just... Stay quiet, like I always do."

And Alfred nodded right after his mind processed what he was actually saying. He was completely in a haze, focusing on stopping the immense pain and tingling rather than talking and listening.

He knew something like that would happen after the peformance, but he didn't realize it would be so powerful.

It made him lose air, and suddenly he was panicking once again just like he did before, trying to breathe but failing to catch a breath, getting crushed by extreme pain in his chest as well as instant numbness everywhere throughout his weakened body - his arms, he somehow couldn't do anything with them, and it sent shivers down his spine. All of the sudden, he forgot where he was, not perceiving the blurry surroundings properly. He let himself go and sobbed out loud, wanting to shout for help, yet unable to do so.

The group immediately turned to him with the same amount of fear and panic in their eyes.  
"Oh god, something is wrong!" Elizabeta yelled and shot Adrienne a worried look. After all, having a doctor in the group came in handy.

Fortunately, they were right in front of the hospital, approaching the big door quicker by each second until they were almost flying through it with the eagerness of saving Alfred before it was too late. They didn't even check in at Francis' counter and just ran past it, turning to the hallway that lead to the emergency room.

Adrienne wanted to help out, but her elegant clothing was in the way - still, at the moment, she didn't care whatsoever and instinctively ran into the room to help the patient in need with two other doctors. "Quick, he's having respiratory problems!" They moved Alfred to a transportable bed in a matter of seconds, placing an oxygen mask on his face and rushing him out of the ER to the surgical emergency unit before he finally blacked out on a moment. Though, Adrienne wouldn't let that happen, not on her watch, and she tried her best to keep him awake by reciting things she knew he liked. Even in the heat of the situation she was able to stay content, just like a good doctor should.  
The bouquet of flowers which was previously on Alfred's lap was thrown to the side, since it wasn't a priority to take care of.

Matthew, Gilbert, Arthur and the Hungarian girl all stood there, in the middle of the hallway, shocked expressions plastered on each of their faces.

"I can't believe this."

Only now did Matthew realize how heartwrenching the situation was, how unrealistic it seemed. For a second, he didn't believe it was real. He blamed it all on the sick, twisted writer of their story.  
But it was real, and it was happening.  
His entire body trembled in fear, and Elizabeta jumped to hug him in comfort, even though she needed it as well.

"I can't lose him, it can't happen..." He kept whispering, breaking down in front of them which was something he never wanted to do. Crying in front of other people was never his thing, but in situations like these, it would be difficult not to.

"Come on, let's sit over there." Liz dragged them over to some chairs, and they shakily sat down with visible apprehension. "It's going to be fine, we're all here for you."

"Nothing will be fine!" Matthew snapped at her, burying his face in his hands and crying harder than he had ever cried in his whole life. "I've been listening to that ever since Alfred was first hospitalized, but things haven't looked fine! In fact, they got worse, so stop giving me your false hope and just be honest with me for once, since we both know that Alfred is not going to make it!" He was near screaming, causing other people in the waiting room to freeze and give them saddened looks, but he didn't notice that.

"Please, Matthew, try to breathe." Elizabeta kept telling him, letting him lean on her shoulder so he could cry it all out.

"It's all my fault." Arthur said quietly, but Gilbert heard him nonetheless, giving him a confused sideways glance.

"Why do you think that?" He asked.

"Because I... I burned all those writings that should've kept Alfred alive."

"Oh, Arthur..." Gilbert replied with a sad smile, placing a hand on the Brit's shoulder. "It's not your fault. You can always rewrite the story, but you can never rewrite a human life."

"But what if his life was the story?" Arthur blinked away his tears, wiping away those that softly rolled down his cheeks. "I could have written a different ending to it."

"You can still write it. A happy end, you know. And they lived happily ever after. But I'm sure Alfred would rather have you creating new stories instead of trying to modify already existing ones which have already ended."

"It hasn't ended yet, don't say that... I don't want it to end." Arthur sighed shakily and shook his head as a way of chasing negativity away from him. Though it didn't work, and the thoughts just grew stronger.

For minutes and minutes, the four of them sat there, building up tension and fear in the room, all trying to comfort each other in such a horrifying situation.  
Even though on a moment Gilbert tried to break the heaviness by getting everyone some hot chocolate from the machine at the entrance to the hospital, Elizabeta only flashed him a serious look and he didn't say a single word after.

They just waited for somebody to tell him about Alfred, until that was exactly what happened.

Adrienne approached them in careful steps, the top of her white uniform messily thrown over the black dress for at least some cover. She quickly had their attention, and she couldn't even say a word once she spotted Matthew silently crying. It was too much, when he was in that state.

"Please, Adrienne, give us good news." The older American begged, still shivering entirely.

Yet Adrienne couldn't give him anything but a sorrowful look and two words.

"I'm sorry."


	19. Thank You For Everything

"I'm sorry."

As Adrienne said those two dreadful words, it felt like the world stopped spinning and the sun would never come out again.  
In front of Matthew's eyes, everything went dark for a second, and he was close to passing out if there wasn't for Elizabeta who tried to keep him conscious. They needed him in such a moment, and he needed them just as much.

"He's... He's..." The American couldn't properly speak from the shock. His entire body went numb and tears involuntarily streamed down his face without him even noticing at first. He had never felt this bad. Not even when he lost his mother, not even then did he feel such pain, not just mental but physical as well. Emptiness, in a way. As if a part of his soul was suddenly gone, and he tried to clutch his chest in an attempt to get it back - yet, nothing worked.  
He had already been close to losing his younger brother when Alfred was sixteen, and since then he tried his best to give him all the protection. It wasn't him who failed, still, to him it seemed like it was his fault.

Elizabeta made place for Adrienne to sit next to her loved one, and the French girl did exactly that. Teary eyed, she embraced Matthew and let him loudly cry everything out, all the pain, the fear, the misery... He couldn't hold back the sobs, he could just let it out and bury his face in Adrienne's shirt for comfort, clinging onto her helplessly.  
She was everything he had.

And Matthew wasn't the only one in a horrible state.

Arthur was wordlessly sitting on the chair, couldn't move, but couldn't cry either. A wave of panic washed over him, but a different kind than usual. Something he had never experienced before. A thousand thoughts paralyzed him in place, not even a single tear escaped his blurry eyes. It was all just a big haze he suddenly couldn't get out of or escape.  
He knew that the next time he woke up, the skies would be grey, and he would be lonely once again for the rest of his life.  
The colour wasn't going to disappear immediately, but was instead slowly fading through a few hours until it was finally gone... That was much more painful to Arthur than if it just left his eyes in a flash of light.

"It can't be true." Gilbert bitterly laughed through tears, not knowing how to properly express everything he felt at the moment. "He can't be gone. That's... Not possible." As if all rationality was gone, none of them could process what happened.

They didn't want to believe that he wasn't here anymore.

Only Liz and Adrienne didn't cry as much as their loved ones in the end, since they knew that they needed to be the ones giving emotional support - even if they needed it, too.  
"We'll get through this together, Matthew." The French girl whispered, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek and hugging him gently one more time. "I'll take a week off from the hospital, and you can take all the time you need away from work, I'm sure they'll let you. We will make it through, somehow, no matter how terrible it feels."

"As long as we all stick together..." Elizabeta sighed shakily, giving Arthur a quick glance. "Arthur, what are you doing?"

The Brit was staring at nothingness, trying to rationalize his thoughts, but it was hopeless. It hurt too much. "The flame... It burned out." He muttered, his lost gaze pierced to the empty space far away. "It wasn't supposed to do that yet."  
His voice was weak and fragile, just like Alfred's in those moments when he felt like a helpless child and Arthur comforted him, gave the best hugs and kisses which immediately made the other feel a thousand times better.

But now, Arthur required the comfort, and Alfred wasn't there to give it to him.

"I heard him mumble something right before he finally passed out... He was mentioning you." Adrienne said softly, turning to the sorrowful Englishman. "I think it was don't cry, Arthur or something similar. It's fair for you to know that. He'll never forget you."

"W-well... Then I better listen to his advice." Arthur replied almost silently.

"Wait, I almost forgot!" Elizabeta suddenly jumped from her chair, taking Alfred's violin case from Gilbert's hands and opening it in one swift movement, taking out two folded papers and handing them to Arthur.  
At first sight, they looked like music sheets, but there was much more than that on the inside. "Alfred wanted you to have this. Before the show, he begged me to write everything he said, and he told me to give it to you once he... You know."

Arthur wordlessly took the paper in his gentle hands, pursing his lips together and nodding at the Hungarian girl in a way of saying thank you.  
He wasn't going to open it now, but rather when he was alone in the comfort of his own home.

"Let's go." Matthew suggested once he calmed down, sniffling a few more times and wiping away the remaining of his tears. "I can't stand to be here anymore."

And all of them agreed. They got up from their seats and waited a few more minutes for Adrienne to check in with the other doctors who worked with her - they all understood her reason to abruptly leave for some time, nobody wanted or tried to stop her.

Things would never be the same again.

\- - -

Matthew and Adrienne arrived at the American's home alone, since everyone needed time and space to themselves after the tragic event which followed the performance at the concert hall. None of them cared enough to see the results yet, and they thought of rather doing it tomorrow morning or tonight.  
It didn't matter if they passed to the next round, though. Elizabeta couldn't continue on her own, anyway, and that was the most painful part.

"I need something to take my mind off things." Matthew sighed as he exasperatedly flopped down on the couch, staring at the ceiling. He hadn't felt so meaningless ever since Alfred tried to take his own life. Now, it was so overwhelming he wanted to do the same at the moment, just to stop the pain.  
Though, that was irrational. He had Adrienne. He had to live despite the pain, just like Alfred did in his last moments. "Everything in this house reminds me of Alfred. Just... Why? Why did he have to be the one to disappear?"

Adrienne frowned at the sight of her lover being in such emotional distress, and she placed Alfred's violin case on the counter before heading towards the couch to give him all the comfort he wanted. "It progressed too quickly, and... Well, it was heart failure that got him in the end. I don't understand how I didn't see it, I might have been able to do something about it... I'm so sorry, Matthew."

"It's not your fault, Adri. It's mine. And the Universe's. Its cruelty never fails to amaze me. I wonder where he is now. Alfred, I mean. He never believed in the afterlife, though still hoped it exists. Now he's... Somewhere, but not here." The American placed both of his hands over his face, almost screaming out everything he felt. But he didn't. "God, I'm a mess." He let out a bitter laugh at himself, turning around and burying his face in the pillow underneath.

"Come on, let's change into something more comfortable, and then I'll make us something to eat. You go sleep in the meantime, you haven't slept in weeks." Adrienne suggested, but Matthew wouldn't listen.

"I don't need sleep", he mumbled into the pillow.

"Please, Matthew, be reasonable." She was on the verge of tears, trying to hide the sadness from the other since she didn't want to make him feel worse. Instead, she put on a tough act for him so he would have the support, yet she was breaking down on the inside as well, keeping all the heavy feelings to herself so she would seem stronger for those around her who needed it.

Please, go to sleep so I can cry by myself, I don't want you to see it, she wanted to tell him, but couldn't find the inner strength to confess.

"Okay." Matthew finally complied, barely getting up and standing still on his feet. He went towards his bedroom, but turned to Adrienne right before he entered it. "Oh and... Thank you for being here for me. I love you." And he disappeared behind the door.

"...I love you, too." She whispered under her breath, but he wasn't there to hear it anymore. As soon as he was out of sight, she couldn't hold it in anymore.  
Feeling her entire body suddenly tremble, she silently cried and gritted her teeth so she wouldn't sob out loud. In a few quick movements, she got rid of the fancy ponytail and just let everything loose, picking up a sweater from the kitchen counter and messily put it on over the dress, the doctor's uniform now on the floor. She didn't care at all.

The images in her mind were too strong - seeing Alfred in that horrific state right before he was gone, all in front of her eyes. First, he tried to shout for help, didn't understand where he was, and she could feel his pain like it was her own. Rushing him down to surgical emergency was a total blur in her head, since then she started feeling cloudy and didn't see clearly anymore. But they knew they couldn't do anything, so they just quickly placed an oxygen mask on his face, hoping that he wouldn't lose conscience.  
And he almost did, if there wasn't for her content attitude. She recited things she knew he liked, hummed his favourite songs, everything just to keep him awake for as long as it was possible, but then it stopped working. His heartbeat went almost rigid before it completely stopped.  
She had never felt anything so intensely in years of working at the hospital. It was different, when the person losing his life was someone she loved. Her lover's brother, even though at times it felt like Alfred was her younger brother, too - the childish behavious, lots of smiling and laughing and music everywhere he went... It made everyone's life filled with happiness. Now, it was gone.  
She kept crying almost soundlessly, falling down to the floor and gripping her hair tightly, feeling as if she'd go insane. She was never the one to do that, but things really got too much. Intensely working for three weeks just to find out it was all for nothing. Having to take care of a loved one filled with grief. Always being the confident one along with Elizabeta, both being the ones who kept things in place. There was a line, and she crossed it.  
Whispering some things in French to herself, she tried to get it together and stood back up, taking three deep breaths.  
"It's going to be alright, it's going to be alright..." She repeated again and again, barely believing her own words.

Matthew couldn't fall asleep that easily, but that was no miracle. His sleepless nights turned into insomnia, and he didn't even remember when was the last time he got more than an hour of sleep anyway.  
He heard crying from the living room, no matter how much she tried to hide it, she didn't even notice how loud it was when she break down the most. Though, he couldn't say anything about it. He knew her too well - going over there to help would only make things worse for her, he was sure about it. So he stayed in the room, wishing that this was all a terrible nightmare he could wake up from, go hug Alfred, hear him cheerfully play the violin again... But he would never hear the sound of it. Everything was empty now. Dreadful silence filled the room, and his heart along the way.

At least he got to do what he loved the most before he left this world.

Still, why did he have to leave me?! It's not fair, not fair at all! He was too young, had so much more to accomplish...

His mind was screaming, and he covered his forehead with the palm of his hand, feeling as if he had a fever. He wouldn't be surprised if that was true.

Why, why now? He was supposed to outlive me, and I'm the older brother who was supposed to take care of him, but I failed.

But I guess... I guess everything has its reason and meaning in this Universe, even if I'm not able to see it...

Perhaps it happened exactly how it supposed to happen.

Too bad I cannot twist fate.

I want to be the one writing a happy end.

\- - - -

In the small, lonely apartment of a certain Englishman, Arthur was sitting on his bed, leaning against a pillow as his hands fidgeted with the papers that Elizabeta handed him right before they left the hospital.

He wondered whether he should even read what was inside. Aimlessly staring at some musical notes on the folded paper, he tried his best to listen to Alfred's advice and not shed a single tear. Though, that was near impossible.

"Alfred wanted me to read this, didn't he...?" He sighed, pursing his lips and finally looking inside, unfolding the letter and gently running his fingers over it. "I'll do it. I'll read it."

My dearest, Arthur,

I'm not the one writing this, although you can probably guess that by the handwriting. That's because I hired Liz to write everything I'm saying here.  
I couldn't grip a pen, I'm so sorry.  
This is probably going to end up really long, and I apologize for taking your time... Honestly, you don't have to read it if you don't feel like it. You can... Listen to music, or write, anything to make yourself feel better. Just smile, that helps too.

If you are reading this, it means I'm not here anymore. And since I'm not here, I cannot say all of this while gazing deeply into your eyes, or whatever writers call eyes when describing them. I'm sorry I'm not good at writing.

Since I met you, my world has been turned upside down. I've never been in love, and then suddenly I was so in love to the point of crying. I was confused.  
I was so thankful for my clumsy hands at that moment, because if it wasn't for that, we might have walked past each other like any two strangers in a supermarket. But apparently, the Universe had other plans.  
I'll never forget the moment I looked up to meet your eyes, and they were bright green, the most beautiful colour I've ever seen.  
I was so close to stop believing in love, and then you stole my heart and never gave it back.  
You thief, how could you?!

You never let me read your writings, but what you don't know is that when I visited your house once, I snuck into the room while you were in the bathroom and read some of the handwritten scripts on your desk.  
It was the most beautiful thing I've ever read.

Oh, but, Arthur, you forgot a thing.

No flame burns forever. You and I both know this all too well, don't we?  
Yet you were the one to keep mine burning stronger and stronger despite the river of negativity flowing through my veins.  
I'm sorry it burned out before I could give you one last kiss.  
I'm sorry I wasn't strong enough to keep it alive despite the pain.

See, I was in pain for quite a long time, but at the beginning, I tried to hide it from you. Not only you, but also my brother. I didn't want to make you worried.  
That's why I was so angry when I wasn't able to hide it any longer.  
I was angry a lot, wasn't I?  
I'm sorry if I ever took it out on you or if it made you tired. That wasn't my plan.

Thank you for turning my life upside down.  
Thank you for having the godly patience to listen to my vents, and my screeching on the violin that was somehow beautiful to you.  
Thank you for being my support when I needed it the most. I'm sorry that I couldn't be there for you as much as you were there for me.  
Thank you for bringing happiness back into my life.  
Thank you for letting me experience the colour green in all of its magic.

I can say thank you a thousand more times, but it would never be enough.  
I can say I'm sorry, yet I know you'd wave your hand and chuckle saying it's alright.  
It's not. I should have been better.  
I shouldn't have given up so early.  
I should have been stronger.

Thank you for being you - Arthur Kirkland, the most gorgeous man I've ever laid my eyes on, the smartest, most poetic, most brilliant, cutest, most caring...

Don't forget what I've told you. Don't grieve for too long, because you have a life to live and oh my, you are going to live it and have such an amazing time. Don't cling to the past and make the same mistakes as me.  
You know everything, I know you do.

Reach out for the sun. Take in all of its warmth and share it with the ones around you.

I hope I was able to live in your heart as much as you lived in mine. I hope my music was able to reach you, and that you will recall it with a smile.

Thank you once again, for everything.

I love you, I love you, I love you.  
And a million more times.

I love you.

Yours truly,  
Alfred Jones


	20. Author's Note

Hey, my wonderful readers!

Unfortunately, we have reached the end of the book. It doesn't have a happy ending, but not everything does in life.  
Sometimes we just gotta get through the bad times the best we can because the fate is too strong for us to trick it and twist it to our will.

I dearly enjoyed writing this, it was honestly such an amazing experience, I'll never forget it.  
There was a lot of crying, not going to lie - and firstly I planned to give this a happy ending but then I thought...

No. No way.

If you didn't notice by now, this book was inspired by my favourite anime Your Lie in April, the most beautiful story and the most beautiful music. I just had to do something similar, but of course not the same.

Some of you asked what Alfred was suffering from anyway, and even with lots of research, I can never be completely sure because I am absolutely terrible at science. But, I'll give it a shot with Friedreich's ataxia, the same illness that Kaori Miyazono from Your Lie in April was suffering from.  
It usually hits those 8 - 15, but I clearly explain that Alfred's case was different, well, unexplainable to the doctors themselves. It's creative writing freedom, what can I say?

You can only twist your fate through a story.

Anyway, I do not want to prolong this, so here's a list of music I listened to while writing.

Tristan Barton:  
Interlude

Colin McAllister:  
Sunday

Fractured Light Music:  
There's Still Hope

Narrow Skies:  
You Won't Find Me

Sleeping at Last:  
Atlas (every single EP)

Whitesand:  
Story of the Wind

Lucas King:  
Sad Piano (all lengthy compliations)

Paul Elhart:  
Commitment to Your Heart

Groundfold:  
Masquerade

Mumford & Sons:  
Literally every single of their songs from the Wilder Mind and Babel albums

Paganini:  
La Campanella

Beethoven:  
Violin Sonata no. 9

Basically a bunch of classical pieces which I forgot the names to. I'll write it once I find it.

Anyway, thank you to the incredible support on this story, it means the world to me, I cannot properly thank you!

-Love, Alexandra <3


End file.
